


Thick as Thieves

by LettersByTheLake



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Explicit Language, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slight Non-Con Elements, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersByTheLake/pseuds/LettersByTheLake
Summary: It takes words from a simple apothecary to question his and his partner's relationship.AU where Therion meets Alfyn while he's still with Darius.
Relationships: Alfyn Greengrass/Therion, Darius/Therion (Octopath Traveler)
Comments: 117
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

The nimble thief sprinted through the streets of Quarrycrest, a huge sack of gold slung over his shoulder. His heart was racing in the best kind of way and his green eyes were bright and excited. He laughed out loud with ecstasy as he heard the shouts from the guards behind him. They would never catch up with him, he knew that. He had done this a hundred times and yet it never got any less thrilling.

“Oi, Therion!” said a voice from a back alley.

“Hurry up Darius, we haven’t got all day,” he shouted back, just as the larger, red-haired man caught up with him. They were sprinting side by side now and it was where Therion felt happiest in the world.

They turned a corner onto the main street, knocking over a woman carrying a bag of potatoes.

“Hey!” she screamed after them angrily, picking herself up from the pile of vegetables now rolling away on the floor.

The boys only laughed and then ducked into another back alley before the guards had even turned the corner onto the main street.

It was there they finally stopped, well hidden in the shadows, panting from the long sprint with huge smiles on their faces.

They leaned up against the wall as the guards sprinted past the opening of the alley, confusion evident in their faces. They continued to run through the town, sidestepping citizens as they went completely in the wrong direction.

“Ha! Did you see their faces!” Therion said with glee, opening the huge sack of gold, just to check if it was still there and he wasn’t hallucinating or anything. Nope, that was a whole lot of leaves.

“I could swear every city guard is useless, they make our job too easy,” replied Darius.

They both laughed as they tried to gain their breath back.

“Where the fuck were you anyway?” asked Therion after a while. He had lost his partner about halfway through their excursion into the big manor and had had to find the gold and steal it by himself.

“Ah, you did just fine on your own.”

“Still, it would have been nice to have some backup in there, I had no idea I was gonna run into those guards outside.”

“I was looking around the manor, wasn’t I. There might have been more treasure. These rich teapots never leave all their wealth in the same place.”

Therion just nodded at the floor.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I only did it coz I know you can handle yerself,” Darius said, stepping in front of his partner and reaching up to cup Therion’s face in his hand.

“Actually, it was nice not having your sorry ass slowing me down,” said Therion and with a small smirk at the look on Darius’ face, he turned away from his hand and started walking down the alley, the sack of gold clattering on his shoulder.

Darius just snorted and followed him, catching up to walk at his side.

“So, we did it, we actually stole from Redhurst Manor,” said Darius.

They had been planning the theft for months now, carefully scouting the manor, so they knew each of the guard’s schedules as well as the resident family’s. They had drawn up maps and planned escape routes, timed schedules and scouted entry points. It was very different to their normal routine which was just to more or less barge into a place spontaneously, regardless of the danger. Therion had been with Darius for five years now, and the reluctance he used to feel when stealing from others was completely gone.

 _Or that’s what you tell yourself, at least_.

“Well _I_ did, I still don’t know where you ran off to,” said Therion a little grumpily. Considering all the plans they had made, he had expected Darius to follow through with them.

“I told you already Theri, it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.”

Therion carried on walking stonily. Now that the adrenaline and thrill had worn off, he was feeling a little put out. He _trusted_ Darius. He hadn’t trusted anyone so much since his mother had passed away, and for him to not have his back like that…

This was by far the riskiest gig they had ever pulled; they knew that going in. It was more important than ever that they watch out for each other. _Partners in crime._ That’s what they were, and that’s what they always would be.

“Oh, snap out of it Therion, you mopey tea leaf. Look at all the gold we have.”

Therion lifted the corner of his mouth in a satisfied smile.

“We can finally leave this sorry excuse for a town, Gods I hate the Cliftlands,” he said.

“Ah, it’s not so bad, we’ve had some good times here.”

Therion just grunted in half-hearted agreement.

They stopped outside the abandoned building they had been staying at for the past couple of months. It had been badly burned by a fire at some point, and he guessed that nobody had had the funds or the bother to do it up.

“Mind you, I can’t wait to sleep somewhere that doesn’t leave me ass smelling of smoke. Hey Theri, with all these leaves we could actually stay in an inn when we get to Saintsbridge.”

 _Saintsbridge._ That was going to be a welcome change. Gods, he _hated_ Quarrycrest. Hated its dry winds and barren landscape. He hated the people and he detested how the rich looked down on the poor like they were nothing. Although he was used to that and it was pretty much the same everywhere. He had been looked down on by everyone for as long as he could remember, and he _hated_ it. Hated feeling like nothing, just a dirty thief living on the streets. Which, of course, was exactly what he fucking was.

_Bad memories._

It was one of the main things that drew him to Darius in the first place. ‘ _Partner,’_ he called him, _always ‘partner.’_ Darius saw him as an equal, could see there was more to him than just a dirty street rat.

They entered the room where they were currently living. It was on the bottom floor at the back of the house, perfectly placed so they could see if anyone were to enter the building, whilst also being near an escape exit.

There were two roll mats on the floor with two satchels resting next to them. A pile of food was stashed in the corner and the floor was littered with rubbish, mainly old, browning apple cores. They didn’t have much stuff as they tended to travel from place to place as much as they could before anyone could clock their location.

Therion dropped the sack of leaves down on the ground with a jangling crash. _A whole lot of leaves._

“Well, we’re well on our way to becoming the greatest tea leaves this world has ever known, and it all starts with that gold,” said Darius, and he grabbed Therion’s arm and pulled him close to his chest kissed him deeply on the lips.

Therion melted into him, and all the stress that tended to build up like a layer of dirt on a day to day basis washed away. He had never cared about Darius’ dream of becoming infamous thieves, he just wanted to stay with him, and he would follow wherever that took him. If it led to him becoming a renowned thief, so be it.

The next day, they set off for Saintsbridge and Therion didn’t even look back at the town he had spent the last few months in. He was in a better mood than ever as he, Darius, and their huge pile of gold trundled along the beaten path.

A lone traveller walked towards them going towards the direction they just came from and as the man came closer, Darius stopped him. He was a well-dressed young man, perhaps from Atlasdam or somewhere alike, as that is where his fashion seemed to fit. He had light hair and cheery blue eyes. Therion could guess easily that this was his first journey, he seemed so full of hope and wonder.

“Good morning traveller! How goes you!” Darius said cheerily.

“Good day to you sir, I am just on my way to Quarrycrest!”

_How can people be this goddamned naïve?_

Darius and the traveller continued talking pleasantries whilst Therion, silent and unnoticed by the man, crept round and took a large pouch of leaves from his satchel.

They had done this a hundred times, worked so many jobs together that they practically knew what the other was thinking. They worked perfectly as a team, sometime Darius doing the talking, sometimes Therion.

As they carried on their way, Therion imagined the man’s dismay as he reached Quarrycrest and realised all his money was gone. There was quite a bit of gold in there, and Therion imagined it was all he was carrying with him, he wondered if he knew anyone there, if not he would be stranded, with nowhere to stay.

Not that he cared.

_He was asking for it, and besides, maybe this will teach him a much-needed lesson._

Darius had clearly already forgotten about the unfortunate soul whose day was about to be ruined.

“We should find a place to stay for the night and then hit the tavern, spend some of these leaves.”

“Fuck knows we have enough,” replied Therion.

“Ah, you can never be too rich.”

Soon Saintsbridge cathedral loomed above them towering elegantly into the sky. Therion had never been to Saintsbridge, and he looked ahead in awe at the beauty of the architecture.

As they finally reached the gates, Therion was struck by how _clean_ it all was. The city of sturdy cobbled streets displayed neatness and spotlessness.

Therion had spent most of his life in Boulderfall and the rest of the Cliftlands. Nobody ever bothered to clean the streets there, particularly in the poorer districts where he had grown up. Even in the higher districts, the dirt and dust swept about from the wind meant it could never really be clean to this extent.

“Never really liked Saintsbridge,” said Darius, looking around with distaste, “too pristine.”

Therion looked at his partner and shrugged.

“I kinda like it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s rich, and where the rich are, we want to be.”

“We shouldn’t stay at the inn,” advised Therion, “It seems like the sort of place where they would notice folks like us. We don’t wanna draw attention.”

“Guess you’re right, though I don’t suppose these teapots are smart enough to realise we’re the ones robbing them blind.”

Therion only grunted in reply. Darius had a habit of being too cocky for his own good and underestimating the people around him.

_Like he was any better._

They searched the alleyways of Saintsbridge for a while, searching for a place to hole down for a couple weeks, gathering a fair amount of gold from passers-by as they went. It wasn’t like they _needed_ the money; it was just more of the fact that they _could_ steal. They had the power. And, as Darius had said before, you can never be too rich.

Eventually, they came across a cobblestone house halfway down one of the less fancy streets of the town with a FOR SALE sign nailed to the door. Looking through the window they could see that there definitely wasn’t anyone living there at that time and all the furniture had already been moved out.

“Perfect,” said Therion, bringing out his lockpick set from his bag. Within a minute he was in, and Darius strode past him and threw his satchel into a corner.

“Home sweet home,” he sighed.

Therion got to work closing all the curtains, which the previous occupant luckily hadn’t taken with the rest of the stuff.

“Tavern?” he asked after he had finished.

“Always in the mood for a drink, huh, Theri,” Darius said from the wooden the floor in which he was sitting with his eyes closed, resting from the long journey.

Therion shot him a look but grabbed Darius’ hand and pulled him up.

“So, what _are_ we going to do with all those leaves?” asked Therion once they had sat down in the tavern with a beer.

“We’ll put it aside for now,” said Darius, “I’ve got a long-term plan that involves that gold plus a whole lot more.”

“I don’t suppose you want to _tell_ me that plan, partner?” asked Therion irritably.

Darius looked at Therion and placed his hand on top of his on the table. “Just… just trust me for now.”

Therion looked into Darius’ dark eyes, eyes he had found so much hope and love these past few years and knew he did.

He trusted Darius more than anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Therion skulked in the shadows of the cobbled streets of Saintsbridge. He had always had a talent for being invisible, and although it had been a cause for loneliness in the past, it tended to come in handy in his line of work.

He had been out all day trying to steal enough leaves for Darius’ ‘plan’, whatever that might be. He had given up arguing for him to confide in him as Darius always got touchy about the subject and sometimes started questioning Therion’s loyalty. _That_ was certainly the last thing he wanted.

He had been reasonably successful but was getting tired and was getting ready to call it a day.

He started walking down the street when a surge of people appeared around the corner walking in the opposite direction. He pickpocketed three different purses without even stopping. The previous owners hadn’t even noticed he was there.

_Heh, I trust you won’t be missing this._

He looked up as a woman was walking towards him with a fine, rich dark red coat on and some pretty hefty jewellery around her neck. She was walking tall and confidently down the street like a fucking beacon for thieves. Gods, these people really were asking for it.

Therion suddenly broke into a run and crashed headfirst into the dark-coated woman who screamed shrilly as she fell to the ground beneath him.

“My goodness! I am so terribly sorry ma’am, let me help you up,” Therion said in a meek, apologetic voice, very unlike his natural one. He got up himself and held out a hand to the fallen woman.

“What insolence!” she snapped but took his hand anyway. Therion noticed with some smugness that several strands of hair had fallen from her perfect updo, and her face was blotched red with anger and embarrassment.

“In all my days, I have never-!” she continued to mutter mild obscenities under her breathe as she got to her feet.

“Once again ma’am, I can only apologise, I do hope you are not hurt.”

The woman glared daggers into Therion and then strode away angrily.

Therion gave a slight, smug smile. Considering her attitude, he really didn’t feel all that guilty when he felt the large diamond necklace clutched in one hand.

“Hey!” said a voice.

Therion looked around, surprised, along with a few other people on the street who had already witnessed Therion run into the woman.

The voice had come from a man across the street, perhaps the same age as Therion, though bigger in build (and rougher for that matter). He wore a green coat over a brown shirt and his hair was, in Therion’s opinion, quite frankly ridiculous. Had he even ever looked in a mirror?

“Did- did you steal something from that woman?” he asked nervously, as though he wasn’t quite one hundred per cent sure.

_Ah. This was not good._

The whole street was looking at him now.

“No, of course I-“

“He did!” cried the woman who unfortunately hadn’t walked quite far enough away yet to avoid overhearing, “He’s taken my necklace, I don’t believe it!” She was clutching her neck in shock.

That was it, Therion legged it.

He sprinted down the street, pushing people out of the way as he went.

He just heard the annoying woman in the red coat scream “Someone get him!” before he turned a corner and out of their sight. As he sprinted down the road, he heard the clatter of guards heavy, metal uniforms behind him.

 _Goodness knows why they thought that armour would be a good idea, it is completely impractical for situations like this,_ thought Therion, though he wasn’t complaining.

He lost them pretty quickly, though took a long route around the city before returning to the house where he and Darius were staying just in case someone actually had a brain and was tailing him.

He doubted it.

He entered through the door, which was, of course, unlocked. It wasn’t like they had to worry about anyone stealing anything, they rarely carried anything of much value, and Darius was keeping the gradually building sack of leaves somewhere else, gods know where. But Therion trusted him with it completely.

“Therion?” Darius called from one of the downstairs rooms.

“Yeah, it’s me Darius,” replied Therion wearily.

Darius emerged through the doorway.

“Are you ok? What’s the loot for today?”

Therion emptied his satchel which was full of pouches of gold, silver, and bronze, and then he held out the necklace.

“Blimey, that’ll do!” exclaimed Darius, looking with wonder at the huge diamond necklace. “How’d you get that one then Theri? Don’t tell me you took it right off someone’s neck?”

Therion shrugged and looked away.

“What?” said Darius narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, I did as a matter of fact.”

“And…”

“And nothing”

Darius’ gaze hardened and Therion had the sudden urge to run.

“I may have got caught.”

Darius looked at him warningly, “Therion-“

“Don’t worry I have it under control”

“Do you?” asked Darius sharply, “because we don’t want anyone remembering your face.”

Therion glared at him.

“ _Will_ anyone remember your face?”

Therion shrugged again and looked at the ground.

Suddenly Darius hit him across the face so hard that he almost went flying across the room. As it was, Therion slammed into the ground with such sudden force and pain so sharp he could feel tears start to well up in his eyes.

He looked up at his partner again from the floor with what he hoped was a glare, but he knew he probably just looked a bit scared.

Darius stood looking down at him, his expression hadn’t changed, still cold but calm. Therion admired that about him, the ability to always keep his cool. Therion always let anger and other emotions take him over. Like now, he was angry at him for hurting his pride, even though he knew he deserved it.

“Do we have to leave?” asked Darius.

Therion shook his head. He liked Saintsbridge a lot more than most places he had stayed which were mostly in the Cliftlands, he didn’t want to leave just yet.

“I have it under control.”

“I’m trusting you Therion, this better not happen again. You’re a good tea leaf, but it don’t mean you can take risks like that, it was stupid.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His face was still stinging a lot and he cursed himself for being so stupid, for being such a liability to Darius when that was the very last thing he wanted to do.

“It’s ok”, said Darius, his voice suddenly very soft. It was weird to think that the man from two seconds ago was the very same as the one in front of him now. He wrapped Therion up in his arms and kissed his face where he had hit him.

Therion’s emotions threatened to rise to the surface, but he pushed them down.

Down, down. He could never let his emotions rise to the top, he had to remain strong, like Darius.

Therion woke up the next day and realised Darius had already left. It wasn’t late, Therion never slept in, but the blankets next to his was empty and Darius’ satchel was gone.

Therion felt his heart sink. Was he still angry about yesterday? Was he going to make them pack up and leave? They usually at least ate breakfast together before going out for the day.

Therion looked at his reflection in the window. His eye had bruised quite spectacularly, the dark blues and greens standing out on his pale skin. It hurt a little when he touched it, but he didn’t mind. His pride was still smarting from yesterday though, and he knew he would have to be extra careful to stay hidden for a few days until people started to forget about the ordeal.

He was so _stupid._

He walked past the markets after he had left the house with his stuff and stole an apple from a fruit stand, throwing it up in the air and catching it again before taking a bite.

It was a beautiful day and Therion sat down in a corner of the town square to enjoy the sunshine whilst munching on his breakfast. Some children were playing tag happily, weaving through markets to the annoyance of several shoppers. They seemed carefree and happy and Therion watched them with a slight wistfulness. He hadn’t really got to enjoy his childhood much.

“I’m guessing you didn’t pay for that, huh?”

Therion looked up startled. It was the same man that had called him out yesterday, the same rough green jacket that looked so out of place in a town like this (Therion guessed he must have been from the country, probably a secluded region of the Riverlands) and the same hideous blonde hair sticking up in all different angles with a stupid little ponytail sticking out the back.

_Fucking country folk._

Therion cursed himself inwardly for being so unprepared and so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed him approach. He was sitting down so wouldn’t be able to escape quickly and he didn’t fancy his chances with fighting the guy, he was quite a lot bigger than him.

“You gonna turn me in?” he asked.

_I’d like to see you try._

“Nah, I figure everyone’s got their own reasons for doing what they do.”

_Weird, but ok…_

“So, what do you want then?” asked Therion suspiciously.

“Heh, I was just gonna see if you wanted some cream for yer eye there, it looks pretty painful.”

“What?” Therion asked bluntly. The man had caught him off guard.

He rummaged in his bag, “yeah this’ll do the trick, it’s quite easy to-“

“I don’t want to buy anything,” Therion said rather rudely, standing up.

The man looked up, confused.

“Oh, I er- I don’t want your money.”

“What do you want then?” He was starting to get irritated now, who did this guy think he was?

“I guess I just want ter help.”

Therion looked at him with utter disgust. Deciding that he wasn’t worth any of his time, he walked away before he could carry out whatever scam he was trying to pull.

He vaguely heard him say “Oh… uh, ok then” quietly from behind him.

_What an idiotic man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Darius wasn’t there when Therion got back to the house that evening. He could tell he had been back at some point that day because there were some bootprints tracked across the floor which definitely hadn’t been there that morning.

He had been paranoid about stealing anything that day, he knew he was treading on thin ice. He’d had a knot in his stomach the whole time, worrying whether Darius was still angry and wondering why he was avoiding him, if he even _was_ avoiding him. He might just be overreacting.

He threw his satchel in a corner and brought out a sketchpad and charcoal from under the pile of blankets in which he slept. It was filled with places he’d been, animals he’d seen, but most of all it was filled with drawings of Darius. Pages were filled of his prominent jawline and muscular body, his long hair and his confident expression. It made the knot in his stomach tighten even more just looking at them.

He flicked through the book to a blank page, sat down with his back against the wall, and began to draw the stark lines of Saintsbridge Cathedral. He admired the building and had studied it often enough those past few days to know it off by heart. His stress and worry flowed away into those dark strokes until the picture in his mind was right there in front of him, intricate and lifelike, so much more than paper and charcoal.

To Therion’s surprise, by the time he was done, a couple of hours had past and the worry hit him once again like a tonne of Bricks. Darius _still_ wasn’t back. He nervously twisted the stick of charcoal between his fingers, coating them in course black dust. Darius went away sometimes by himself, but he always told Therion. He rarely stayed away an entire day without warning him first.

No, he was being stupid, he had only been gone a day, he probably just lost track of time…

The stick of charcoal snapped in Therion’s hand. He sighed and got up; he couldn’t stay here worrying by himself anymore. He put on his purple scarf and left for the tavern.

The tavern was busy, just the way he liked it. The more crowded it was, the easier it was not to be noticed. He crept up behind a big table which he had picked out to be the drunkest in the room. They were all big men, their booming drunken laughs cutting through the general chatter, tankards overflowing as they were slammed onto the table. It was piss easy to slip one hand into the largest guy’s pocket and slip out a few leaves.

He made his way to the bar and deposited the freshly thieved gold on the counter in exchange for their local brew. The barkeep shot a friendly smile in his direction.

“Where’s your friend today, then?” he asked. He and Darius had been into the tavern enough times in the past few days for the barkeep to recognise him then…

He said nothing and stared knives at the guy.

“Alright, sorry I asked,” he said sliding his beer over the counter.

Therion looked around the room. These people were pitiful really, all drunk off their faces talking about fuck knows what useless shit. Most of them probably had respectable jobs and would look down at someone such as himself, but he knew people. He knew all these men were just as filthy as he was, and at least he didn’t hide behind a façade.

His eyes slid to a man sitting by himself in the corner, watching Therion with a curious gaze. Therion rolled his eyes. It was that weird, stupid-haired, green shirt guy again. _Why_ was he so interested in him, he thought he had made it pretty clear he had no time for him.

Therion turned back to the bar and stared gloomily into his tankard. He hated this, how he couldn’t even bear to be one day apart from Darius. He remembered a time before he met his partner locked up in that cell, before he fell in love. He had lived day to day, stealing just enough to get by. It was simpler and easier; he only needed to watch out for himself and he hadn’t aimed so high. Darius was always pushing him now, always saying how, with his talent, he could do anything. And they _had_ done everything, and they had a huge pile of leaves to show for it. He had a future now which was something he had avoided thinking about altogether before he met Darius. No, that time might have been simpler, but it was also lonely. The years after his mother had died, he’d been totally alone, scared, there hadn’t been much point in living at all...

Suddenly, someone roughly grabbed the back of his shawl and pulled him backwards off the bar stool with a crash. Therion cried out in shock as he hit the floor.

“Wha…” he cried in confusion, turning around and looking up at his assailant, ready to topple him to the ground in retaliation. If it was a fight they wanted, a fight they would get.

Therion’s angry glare did not hit a large, muscular man like he was expecting, but instead focused on a pair of familiar dark eyes which he would have been overjoyed to see if they had not been filled with utter fiery rage.

Therion’s angry gaze immediately melted into one of wide-eyed fear.

“Darius-?“ Darius picked up the small thief by the front of his shawl and hauled him to feet. By now a few tavern residents, including the barkeep, were watching the scene with some amusement and raised eyebrows, however, they didn’t do anything to intervene. Not that Therion expected anything of the sort, but it was nice to know that there were a few witnesses in case it really did go too far.

Darius roughly dragged him, stumbling, to the other end of the room and through the open door. He then continued around the building and down the side alley where Therion assumed the service entrance was and dumped him unceremoniously onto the ground.

“Darius, I-“

Darius grabbed Therion and picked him up against the coarse cobblestone wall and kissed him roughly and painfully. When he pulled away, Therion looked at him in shock.

“Y-you’re drunk,” he stated bluntly. “Look, Darius, I’m sorry about yesterday, c-can we just go home?”

Darius said nothing, just stood there and stared at him with that awful rage in his eyes. Therion cowered away from him.

Therion immediately realised that was the wrong thing to do. Darius grabbed a handful of his white hair and forced his face close to his.

“Don’t you dare apologise to me, you worthless shit,” he said in a terrifyingly quiet voice, and then slammed his lips against his again, banging Therion’s head into the wall as he did so. Therion’s cry of pain was muffled his partner's mouth as he struggled to get away. Darius may have been stronger than Therion, but Therion was faster and nimbler, especially considering how much it seemed Darius had had to drink that night, and eventually he managed to wriggle out of Darius’ hold.

“P-please, Darius, stop! Stop, I-I’m sorry!”

For reasons unknown to Therion, that seemed to be the final straw for his partner, and he punched him squarely in the jaw. Therion saw stars as the blow all but knocked him off his feet. He was so dazed he didn’t even see the next one coming. Or the next, or the one after that. By the end, Therion was on the floor, desperately covering his face with his arms whilst Darius kicked him in the ribs over and over again.

Therion was curled up in a ball, in so much pain that he didn’t even notice it had stopped until someone was shaking his shoulder and asking him if was ok. He just wanted to curl up even tighter and disappear.

“Shucks, buddy, are ya alright?”

Therion peered through half-closed, pain-filled eyes and caught a glimpse of a green jacket.

Darius. Darius was back. His heart started beating faster.

But wait, that couldn’t be right…

He opened his eyes a little wider to see a worry-filled face staring back at him. A face that definitely wasn’t Darius’.

No… _No._ It _couldn’t_ be that stupid guy from the country. Not again.

“Leave me alone,” he said, his voice a lot weaker than he wanted it to sound.

“Ah, sorry, no can do, I’m gonna help you out.”

Therion let out an annoyed sigh.

“ _Why?”_

“Because, as rude as ya are, I have an obligation. Now, I’m gonna help you up.” Therion groaned as the man put his arms under his back and lifted him into a sitting position.

“No- No obligation, I’m fine” Therion managed to wheeze out. His ribs were throbbing badly, he wondered if any of them were broken. That would be a nuisance. This whole thing was a fucking nuisance, most of all this guy, an apothecary by the looks of his satchel, who kept following him around.

“Sure ya are,” he slowly lifted Therion up to his feet, prompting a pained cry from the thief. He wrapped one of his arms around his shoulder and started walking him back up the alley.

“Where are we going?” groaned Therion. It would just be the icing on the cake to be kidnapped by some weird apothecary from the country.

“The Inn, it’s where I’m staying, and we can getcha fixed up.”

“No, I’m ok,” he said trying to remove his arm from around his shoulder.

“Look, I can’t force you to be treated, but you’re a little stuck if ya don’t, I mean you can barely walk by yerself.”

He had a point, to be honest, and what was more, he didn’t really fancy going home just yet, not with Darius in the mood he was in.

_Perfect. Just fucking perfect._

They continued down the street to the inn where the woman at the desk shot them a worried look as they walked through the door and towards the stairs.

“Don’t worry Mrs Brookes, I’m just helping him out, he’ll be fine.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Ok, just don’t get any blood on the sheets.”

_Blood? He was bleeding?_

“Right ya are Mrs Brookes,” replied the apothecary with a smile.

The stairs were difficult, but luckily the room was only on the first floor. By the time they were at the top Therion was breathing loudly and putting a lot of weight onto his aid.

“Right, it’s just in here,” he said, opening the door in front of them. The room was small but cosy with a single bed, desk, chair, wardrobe and basin. It was luxury compared to the places in which he and Darius usually stayed in.

The apothecary sat him down on the chair in the corner and started wetting a cloth in the basin. When he returned, Therion raised his eyebrows at him.

“Er… I’m just gonna… You’re head…” the apothecary said awkwardly, gesturing towards his hair.

Therion shrugged as confirmation and he started tending to the wound on the back of his head he must have received when he banged his head against the wall. That must have been the blood the innkeeper was talking about.

“Who was that guy?” the apothecary asked.

Therion shrugged again,

“A friend,” he said.

“Heh, can’t be much of a friend if he did this, huh?”

Therion felt anger rise in his chest. Who was this guy to start judging his life?

“Right, yer head’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Head wounds always tend to bleed more ya see, but I’m gonna have to look at yer ribs, they seemed like they were hurtin ya.”

He looked expectantly at Therion, and he realised that he wanted him to take his shawl off. He sighed but started to do just that, grimacing in pain. Eventually, and with a lot of help, he managed to remove it.

His ribs were a constellation of forming bruises, and Therion winced as he looked down at them. This was going to take a hell of a lot of time to heal.

“Hmm, right, I’m just going to check if any of yer ribs are broken.”

He went ahead, and to Therion’s immense pain, he began to feel every one individually. Therion gripped the chair tightly as he went, trying not to cry out.

“Almost done,” the apothecary muttered.

“Ah, good,” he said, looking up, “none of them seem to be broken, but I’m still gonna have to wrap them.” He pulled out some bandaged from his satchel and started to wrap them around his ribs reasonably tightly.

“Yer gonna have to make an effort to breathe as normally as you can, no matter how much it hurts, to avoid pneumonia, but otherwise you’ll be fine as long as yer don’t do anything too strenuous,” he said, finishing up.

There was a pause while he put away the bandages.

“Why are you doing this?” Therion asked after a moment. There was no way he was doing this out of the kindness of his heart, people were just not like that. He knew that more than anyone.

“Heh, it’s a long story, but, well, someone inspired me a long time ago to help as many people as possible.”

Therion tried not to roll his eyes.

 _Touching._ It astounded him how someone could be that naïve.

He would learn his lesson soon enough.

“Right, well, that’s it I think, unless there’s an injury I’ve missed?”

Therion shook his head, though, truth be told, he didn’t really know. The pain just sort of ached through his whole body.

He got up, realising that moving was a whole lot less painful now that his ribs were wrapped. He looked at the apothecary. He must admit, he was ok at his job.

That didn’t mean he liked the guy.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Therion said, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Yeah… I know. Like I said before, I don’t do it for the money or the thanks or whatever.”

_Still weird._

He started hobbling towards the door when the apothecary spoke again.

“I’m Alfyn, by the way.”

Therion paused. What was the point, it wasn’t like he was going to see the guy again, and besides, he wasn’t in the habit of giving his name to complete strangers.

But he _had_ helped him out this evening…

“Therion,” he said without looking back, and then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos, I really appreciate it a lot! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Therion limped back to the house, his ribs on fire. He was thankful to even be able to move to be honest, and although that apothecary, Alfyn he said his name was, was thoroughly annoying, he admitted he had done a good job.

Darius was asleep, or rather passed out, on his blankets when Therion got back. He studied his sleeping form for a while and wondered vaguely if he would feel any guilt for what he had done to him in the morning. That was if he even remembered.

He couldn’t sleep that night, every position he tried to lie in knocked his aching torso and a deep heavy worry twisted in his stomach. He hated arguing with Darius, it upset him like nothing else in the world and he knew he wouldn’t rest easy until it was resolved.

But the sun rose in the morning as it always did, uncaring that Therion was bone-weary and suffering. He hated that, sometimes, that the world went on no matter what was happening down below. Sometimes he wished there would be some evidence of his pain, the sun should shine a little dimmer, the wind cry a little louder. He had felt that a lot when his mother died when there was no one to help him and he was completely alone. For a young boy to realise that the world doesn’t revolve around him is a sad but necessary awakening.

Darius shuffled in his blankets and let out a pained groan before awakening to Therion staring tentatively at him.

“Therion?” he asked confusedly. And then his eyes widened in remembrance.

“Therion, shit, are you ok, I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Therion shrugged, holding back a wince when the muscles around his ribs stretched painfully. He now had a large pink bruise on his jaw to add to his already black eye.

“Not much.”

Darius smiled, “Yeah, I know you can take it. Still, sorry I got so angry.”

“It’s ok, I deserved it,” he muttered.

“I let my anger get the best of me, it won’t happen again,” Darius said seriously.

Therion smiled at that and, when Darius wasn’t looking, he got up, trying his best not to cry outwardly at the pain it brought. Sleeping on the floor had not helped in the slightest and he was extremely stiff. Today was going to be a struggle.

“What do you say we go out for a gander in the markets today, hit the tavern the two of us?” Darius asked, unaware of Therion’s discomfort.

Therion could have whooped for joy at his words if he had a little less self-pride. As it was, the knot in his chest loosened considerably and he knew he could deal with the physical pain as long as he was with Darius.

It scared him sometimes, his love for his fellow thief, he knew he could overlook any indecencies or faults, his heart was so full of admiration for him. It was worth it though to have him by his side.

They set out after a spot of breakfast made up of fresh fruit. The day was a beautiful one, warming the cobbles of Saintsbridge as they walked, somewhat stiffly in Therion’s case, through the streets, their conversation light and carefree.

It was a Sunday, and so the markets weren’t as bustling as usual, as everyone was in the cathedral. Therion had never had time for religion himself but often found himself praying to Aeber, just in case, though he would never admit it. He wished desperately that there was someone watching over him that cared and would guide him through life, though when he thought about it logically, his experiences so far didn’t lend to such things existing.

The lack of crowds meant that thieving would be difficult, though it didn’t stop them from doing it. They made it a game, as they had done many times before, to steal ridiculous things without getting caught. The objects of their thievery got more and more extravagant as the morning went on until Therion finally dared Darius to steal an old man’s dog from right under his nose. They returned that one after a while, though it caused much hilarity between the pair of them.

That said, they never went so far as to steal jewellery off someone’s neck, and although Darius had forgiven him for that little mishap, he cursed himself every once in a while at his stupidity. If it had been worse, if those guards had caught him, the fun they were having in Saintsbridge would not be happening at all.

After a while, the service in the cathedral ended and a huge crowd of people in their finest clothing started to filter onto the streets.

“Haha, and the fun begins! Betcha I can steal more leaves from these teapots than you can, Theri,” challenged Darius.

“You wish,” Therion said with a mischievous smile, and with the gauntlet thrown, they both melted into the crowd in separate directions.

The crowd was thick and Therion was jostled about quite a bit as he went against it, his ribs jarring and hitting him with blinding pain when he was knocked badly. In fact, it wasn’t much fun at all, and after a while, a deep panic started to settle in his mind.

He _had_ to get out of there, find a place that was quiet and uncrowded. And so he did, regardless of the people pushing and shoving against him, he shoved back, putting himself in more pain in the knowledge it would end faster and he would get out sooner. Eventually, he managed to push himself up against a wall, the cobblestones digging into his back giving him nowhere near the amount of pain his ribs were a few seconds ago.

He stayed there until the crowd moved on and died down, dissipating into the market square and their various homes. His muscles relaxed with relief that the ordeal was over, and he was left with an anger at himself that he was so weak.

He had been feeling that emotion a lot recently.

There was no sign of Darius and, although he would wonder why Therion hadn’t collected any leaves at all, he couldn’t bring himself to try to catch up. He was exhausted and trembling, he felt weak and pathetic, but he sat down on a wall away from the square to calm down a bit whilst waiting for Darius to return.

He watched the people go about their afternoon, the children playing and the adults chatting. Their lives were so different from his, and he wondered if, in another life with different circumstances, he might not be amongst them.

He shook his head at the thought. No good wishing for something that was so far out of reach. Besides, he was happy with how his life had turned out, wasn’t he? He had come so far from that small, broken boy who had to start stealing to survive.

“Therion?” a voice said, and he looked over to see the apothecary looking at him worriedly, something that seems to have been happening a lot recently.

He rolled his eyes, “Gee, what are you, following me?”

Alfyn shrugged without a hint of embarrassment.

“Ah, it’s a small town, we’re both not from here, we’re bound to run into each other from time to time.”

Therion looked at him reproachfully, “How do you know I’m not from here.”

“Well… are ya? It’s just you don’t seem like the typical Saintsbridge type is all.”

Therion said nothing and glowered at the ground.

“So, er, how are ya doing? you look kinda worn down there,” Alfyn continued, clearly not taking the hint that he was not in the least bit wanted.

“Fine,” Therion said bluntly. Just because Alfyn had given him help when he needed it, didn’t mean they were automatically besties all of a sudden.

“Ok, well… good, just, yeah, I hope you’re not doing anything strenuous and stuff…”

Therion looked at him, he was standing there awkwardly as if he wanted to ask something. Therion just glared at him to go away. He was not in the mood.

But go away he did not.

_Of course not._

“I was just gonna say… if you need anything, you know where to find me, like if your ribs start hurtin' yer, or you know… that guy starts giving you grief again, I mean I’m no fighter, but-

“Therion!”

Both Therion and Alfyn whipped their heads around as Darius strode towards them, gleaming with confidence.

Alfyn looked absolutely furious at the sight and opened and closed his mouth rather like a fish.

_Idiot,_ Therion thought.

“I was looking all over for you.”

He stopped next to him and glanced over at Alfyn, taking in his country manner and roughhewn clothing, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Who’s this then, Theri, a friend?” he snorted at his own humour.

“He was just leaving-“ started Therion.

“You!” Alfyn gawped, seemingly at a loss of what to say.

“Who are you again mate?” Darius said with a confused grin.

“I was the one who helped Therion here after you attacked him last night!” he replied angrily, his face turning beet-red.

Therion found his own face growing in heat as Darius looked at him curiously, the humour in his eyes fading.

“Yeah, er, he helped me out a bit…” he said, not knowing what else to do. “Not that I needed it or anything,” he added quickly.

Darius looked back at Alfyn, the cruel sparkle back in his eyes, and he laughed.

“Ha, I think Therion here can take care of himself, he doesn’t need some Riverland boy to take care of him.”

“He was in a right state when I found him, weren’t you.” He looked at Therion desperately for support.

“Fuck off, and stop talking nonsense,” Therion said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Alfyn looked extremely hurt and Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes, yet again.

“Fine- I just,” he spluttered and then sighed in defeat, “just think about what I said earlier, Therion.” And with that, he walked away, the carefree confidence he had before, a confidence of a very different sort to Darius’ own, was gone. He looked defeated.

Darius looked at Therion again.

“What did he say earlier?”

“No idea, I wasn’t listening,” said Therion, looking at the ground.

To his utter dismay, the familiar feeling of guilt, an emotion he had worked so hard to suppress over the years, was once again seeping into his mind.

There was a slight pause, but to Therion’s relief, Darius spoke first.

“Let’s go hit the Tavern, and we can count out the leaves we stole. You’re gonna be hard-pressed to beat me, I must say.” Darius laughed again, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and started in the direction of the Tavern.

Therion followed gloomily after him. Not only was he going to have to come up with an explanation as to why he had absolutely no stolen gold in his pockets, but he also knew this wasn’t the end of the discussion about Alfyn. He was bound to be curious.

He looked in the direction that the apothecary had left in, and a strange and unwanted emotion filled him. It was almost a longing… but no, that couldn’t be it, what was there possibly to long for in a simple, senseless apothecary?


	5. Chapter 5

“So, who was that guy again?”

And there it was. He had been dreading it all evening because he knew he couldn’t have heard the end of it before. Darius was pedantic, one of the things that made him such a good thief, but it also meant that there was no way he was letting this go any time soon.

Darius had said it casually, sipping his beer and not looking at him directly in the eye, but Therion knew he was paying close attention to his reaction.

He shrugged, “I said before, he helped me out a bit, but I didn’t need it, so I told him to fuck off.”

“Sure, yeah…” Darius paused and narrowed his eyes.

_Uh oh_

“’cept that he knew your name and seemed to be mighty friendly with you before I showed up, considerin’.”

Therion looked at him. _How much had he heard?_

Darius sounded calm and cool, though Therion knew his temper could change as quickly as the tides.

“He’s nothing to worry about, he won’t bother me again,” said Therion delicately.

To his surprise, Darius just nodded, albeit with a mistrustful look on his face, and changed the subject. But while they were talking the previous conversation seemed to be hanging over them., Perhaps it was just his imagination because he felt guilty, but then what was the need? He hadn’t done anything wrong… had he?

As much as he told himself he hadn’t, a thought persistently niggled in the back of his mind. A thought about a certain apothecary that just would not go away no matter how hard he tried to focus on his partner in front of him. It was nothing in particular, it was just the man in general. He couldn’t get him out of his head! His stupid hair and stupid clothes and the way he seemed to always be there, no matter what time of day. Gods, was he annoying.

So, the rest of the afternoon went by in a haze of trying desperately to concentrate on what Darius was saying while his ribs ached persistently, and his thoughts strayed.

“What is _wrong_ with you today?” asked Darius finally as Therion failed to reply for the umpteenth time.

Therion’s eyes slid back into focus as he tore his thoughts away from thinking about what Darius would say if he knew Alfyn was practically following him around Saintsbridge like a puppy, because as much as he had insisted otherwise, there was no way he could have bumped into him this many times coincidentally.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said I’ve got somethin’ exciting to tell you,” he repeated angrily, “but your head’s clearly not in it so never mind for now.” He got up, put a few coins on the table for a tip (because even thieves want to be held in high regard by the locals, for sources of gossip), and started walking towards the door.

“Wait, Darius, I’m sorry, you’ve got my full attention,” he said calmly, putting his hand on Darius’ shoulder to stop him.

Darius didn’t stop and instead pushed Therion away, and although it wasn’t a particularly rough action, he knocked Therion’s ribs which flared up considerably making him gasp and curl in on himself slightly. When Darius turned around and noticed the pain he had caused, he let out a small chuckle and carried on out the door leaving Therion to stumble after him.

The walk back to the house was silent and, for Therion, guilt-ridden. He imagined how annoyed he would be if Darius ignored _him_ like that all day. But he said nothing, knowing full well that the best thing to do when Darius was upset was stay quiet. He hunched into his scarf and looked at the ground, stealing the occasional glance at his partner to check if he was still looking straight ahead with that stone-cold expression he knew only too well. He was. Therion sighed.

Finally, his irritation spiked.

“Oh, stop pouting Darius, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he snapped.

No answer.

“For fucks sake, what _is_ it with you at the moment? I can hardly say anything for fear of upsetting you.“

Still nothing.

“I’m done with it Darius, I don’t want to live like this. I could leave, you know. Let’s face it I’m the skills in this operation, I could do fine on my-“

Darius stopped suddenly, so that Therion, who was walking a little behind him, almost crashed into him and looked up in surprise. Darius wasn’t wearing a cold, non-expression now. His face was filled with fury, his eyes on fire, and they were directed right at Therion.

“AM I NOT RIGHT TO EXPECT A LITTLE RESPECT FROM YOU?” he shouted. An elderly woman who happened to be the only one on the street with them at the time sped up and disappeared around the corner. Therion gaped, at a loss for words. “AS _IF_ YOU COULD SURVIVE ON YOUR OWN. YOU WERE NOTHING, _NOTHING_ , BEFORE I TOOK YOU UNDER MY WING. YOU WOULD BE DEAD ON THE STREETS IF IT WEREN’T FOR ME!”

“I-I know that, I just-“

“I DESERVE MORE THAN TO BE IGNORED ALL AFTERNOON, FOR YOU TO BE GALLAVANTIN’ AROUND WITH SOME IDIOT COUNTRYMAN. I DESERVE MORE THAN YOU KEEPIN’ SECRETS FROM ME!” Darius bellowed.

Therion gasped with the unfairness of his words.

“Secrets!? _I’m_ not the one keeping secrets Darius. You don’t tell me anything! Where’s our money, huh? What’s this big ‘plan’ you keep telling me about? Where do you go all day? Because you sure as hell don’t tell me,” he spat.

“And here I was thinkin’ you trusted me,” Darius said in return. He wasn’t shouting anymore, but the fire in his eyes remained. He walked away. Therion stood there, seething for a little bit, his fists clenched, anger burning hot in his veins. And then, after a while, he reluctantly followed, because he didn’t have anywhere else to go and apparently he _couldn’t_ survive on his own.

 _Aeber help me,_ he thought.

  


  


  


They sat down on their blankets; their backs turned, the silence between them like wildfire, hot and untamed. Therion felt the anger in his chest like a bubbling volcano and it took all his concentration not to explode. He was fed up with this, with treading on eggshells around Darius because he didn’t know when his temper would spike. He was fed up with blaming himself and being blamed and the constant guilt settled in his gut. He was fed up with following blindly a man whom he trusted with all his heart yet kept secrets from him and hurt him. He was fed up with the ache in his ribs and the deeper ache beneath them in his heart.

But more than that he was angry that Darius was right. He _would_ be nothing if it weren’t for him. He would most likely be dead in the streets of Bolderfall or rotting in some prison with his hands cut off. Darius had shown him the world, shown him that with his talent he could do anything. _Together_ they could do anything.

He was nothing without Darius. _Nothing._

Therion sighed, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. His shoulders relaxed, and he felt so very ashamed. He turned to look at Darius, the man he loved, who was sitting counting gold forcefully, coins clinking heavily as he threw them vehemently into the bag, and his insides melted.

“I’m so sorry, Darius,” he said in such a small voice it was almost a whisper, and he was worried it would go unheard beneath the clanking coins.

But Darius stopped and looked around at him and perhaps it was the look on Therion’s face, if it was anything close to how pitiful he felt inside it was likely, that made the anger from his eyes fade away.

“I know,” he replied, “just remember where you came from.”

Therion nodded and Darius pulled him into a hug. All the emotion from the past few days, which had been trying to say the least, felt like it was being released into that hug, and Therion’s throat burned with bottled up emotion.

They had always fit perfectly together like this, Darius’ huge, warm arms wrapped around Therion’s small frame, his head in the folds of his cloak, breathing in his comforting smell. In Darius’ arms the world couldn’t get him, the cruelty that he had seen so much of on this godsforsaken planet was held back a little and he actually felt safe. Safe in a way he had never felt anywhere else but for this person that loved him and cared about him and he was so _sorry_ because there was no one else in the world that could offer him that and he’d just gone and insulted him and that was unforgivable. Therion hugged him a little closer. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, he thought as he turned his head to face Darius and his lips brushed his and he fell into his kiss.

  


  


  


The next day was spent together again, and Therion found himself keeping close to his partner, both physically and mentally, latching on to his every word to make sure he knew he was the centre of his attention. Darius’ attitude was back to normal, as was their usual cynical banter and Therion felt so much relief that he wasn’t still angry about the day before. Therion wasn’t sure he would have been that forgiving.

The day was much the same as many others; thieving and eating and laughing and joking. It was perfect, and what was more, _no apothecary._

Evening found them at their usual spot at the tavern, for they had been in Saintsbridge long enough to have a usual spot now, sipping beers and making witty comments about the people around them.

During a lull in the conversation, Therion decided to try his luck and ask the question he’d been thinking about all day.

“So, what was it you were going to tell me yesterday? You know, the thing you said was exciting.”

Darius smiled and looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

“I’ve been hearin’ some stuff about town over the past few days.”

“Yeah?” Therion said, surprised, “what?”

“The Cianno group is in town,” he replied with a smirk.

“And? They’re just a group of bandits.”

“A group of _loaded_ bandits,” Darius said, his eyes twinkling.

Therion really hoped he wasn’t saying what he thought he was saying.

“Highly skilled and organised bandits…” Therion said slowly.

Darius laughed, “Oh, come on Theri, you sayin’ you’re not up for a bit of a challenge?”

“It’s a lot more than a _bit of a challenge_ Darius,” Therion said warily, but he could feel his heart picking up pace with excitement all the same.

“No doubt about it, it’ll be the biggest heist we ever pulled, but they’re _here_ Therion, holed up in a cave just outside town, we’ll probably never get this chance again. And think of the _riches_ ,” he said dramatically, “we’ll be loaded for life.”

Despite himself, Therion felt a smile creep onto his face. Trust Darius to shake up their routine with something absolutely mad.

“It _would_ be pretty cool if we succeeded.”

“It’ll be more than pretty cool _when_ we succeed.”

“It’s going to take a lot of planning.”

“We better get started then.”

Their eyes met over the table as they smiled mischievously at each other.

And they started to plan the heist they hoped would change their lives forever.


	6. Chapter 6

“We’ve hit the jackpot, Theri,” said Darius entering the house with a huge grin on his face.

They had been scouting the Cianno Group’s cave hideout for a week now, taking shifts and getting the lay of the land and listening to chatter from the guards from a hiding spot behind the greenery. They had discovered a surprising amount from seemingly meaningless conversation from the watch guards and people entering or exiting the cave and it made them appreciate just how much information you can give without realising.

“Why, what did you hear?” asked Therion, perking up from his place on the ground and setting his sketchbook to one side.

“The Cianno Group is plannin’ to rob Saintsbridge Bank this Sunday.”

“Ok…” said Therion slowly, expecting him to carry on. He had to admit, he wasn’t really getting the ‘jackpot’ bit.

“It’s why they’re here, it’s the big thing they’ve been talking about, one of the guards finally let it slip today,” he said with calm excitement.

“So… get to the point, Darius, how does this help us?”

“Look,” he said, his shoulders dropping with impatience, “the Cianno group is a large organisation, yeah? But it’s not _that_ large, and to rob a bank with force like they plan to you need a big crew, and so my guess is that there won’t be many people left in the hideout guarding their leaves when they’re doin’ it.”

A smile grew on Therion’s face to match his partner’s, suddenly understanding, “You’re right, this is a perfect opportunity.”

“Bit earlier than I would’ve liked but we can’t have everything.”

“Now, to start planning then,” said Therion, rising to his feet, “It shouldn’t be hard, we have enough information.”

“The one thing we can’t do is underestimate them Therion, they may not be known for their tactics, but they are for their violence and numbers.”

“How many do you think will be on duty in the hideout?”

“That’s what we need to find out over the next few days. I’m guessin’ ten, but guessin’ ain’t good enough for this level of operation.”

Therion nodded and made his way to the carpet of paper covering the middle of the room. It was filled with everything they had picked up from scouting, and other possible tactics and strategies.

Therion had to admit, he couldn’t have been doing this without Darius; his mind was cunning and strategic where Therion’s was impulsive and rash. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together, Darius the brains and Therion the street skills. Not that Darius was untalented, but Therion had this unprecedented knack for knowing the exact probability of success in stealing from each person, allowing him to make perfectly calculated risks. He was nimble and quick-fingered, and he was charming when he wanted to be; he made manipulation an art form. He suspected Darius was jealous of it sometimes.

He sat down on the floor, Darius appearing next to him, and they started rifling through the notes and plans and began to confidently come up with tactics and strategies for every possible outcome.

Over the next week, they were in bright spirits, their plan came together perfectly like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, fitting into place without fault or flaw. Therion scouted in the afternoons when they had discovered the guards on shift were most loose-lipped to find out any information on the number of members going to be left guarding their treasure on Sunday or anything else that might be useful. Darius laboriously checked over their notes, tweaking them where needed.

As Sunday drew nearer, Therion found the familiar sensation of nerves settle in his gut. It was a feeling that made him both queasy and excited and though Darius remained his usual imperturbable self, he could tell he was at least feeling a little of the same.

All in all, they were confident they were going to be successful. Therion had overheard in his scouting missions that there were going to be fewer in the cave during the bank robbery than they had first estimated and that the robbery was going to take all morning while the people of Saintsbridge were praying in the cathedral. Whilst Darius was uncomfortable about carrying out something like this in broad daylight, Therion couldn’t believe the luck that had aligned for them to carry out the perfect heist.

The Saturday night before was spent in silence. There was no more need to check over the plan, they had all they needed and knew exactly what they were going to do. The two were well practiced in the trade and it seemed that every theft they had undertaken had given them the skills to carry this one out. So, there they lay on their blankets on the ground, earlier than normal for they had to get up at the crack of dawn, and Therion was lost in thoughts of the riches and grandeur that would be theirs in little less than a day.

Eventually he must have fallen asleep despite his churning stomach for Darius was shaking him awake not hours later, a gleam in his eye that Therion had seen only a number of times, always before they pulled off something particularly impressive.

“It’s time, Theri, get your stuff and let’s get a move on, it’s already light outside.”

Sure enough, by the time Therion stepped outside behind Darius, a large bag slumped over his shoulder, the sun had already risen above the horizon and a pale light touched the cobblestone’s, warming them from the night’s chill.

It was a short walk East out of Saintsbridge to the cave that sat partially hidden from the road’s view. They had found it in the first place from rumours about town and by tailing various people going in that general direction. It was a path they both knew well by now having spent many a day crouched, legs cramping, in the undergrowth nearby.

“Right, you know what to do,” muttered Darius in as low a voice as possible. It was an unnecessary thing to say; Therion knew exactly what he was doing.

As the stealthier of the two, he was the one to creep up behind the guard on watch who was hiding in the undergrowth and smash him on the back of the head with the hilt of his dagger. He did it quickly and silently and the guard was out before he even knew what was had happened. There was only one guard on watch duty that morning, they knew the rest of the crew were out carrying out their own plan at Saintsbridge Bank at that very moment.

Therion signalled Darius from his hiding place and they entered the hidden jagged mouth of the cave. Although they had never actually been inside, they knew the basic layout from the guard’s talk. But to hear of a place is very different to actually being there, and Therion had to admit, the dark, narrow tunnel was disconcerting. They had no way of seeing where they were putting their feet and if someone were to be hiding in the shadows, they would be severely disadvantaged. They treaded as carefully as possible, and light on their feet. They were a good way along when Therion shot out his arm to stop Darius in his tracks.

“Wait,” he said, then took a deliberate big step to signal Darius should follow suit.

“The first tripwire?” Darius whispered.

Therion nodded. He was lithe and nimble and practised in being feline and cautious, but he worried for Darius who didn’t have the same slight build as he did. He needn’t have, for Darius was less clumsy than he looked, and he stepped along the passage with practised grace.

It wound and twisted, and they slipped watchfully along, only the occasional low-burning Gaslamp to light their way. On another day, the tunnel might have been lighter, perhaps the jolly banter of thieves would be heard and the cunning low voices of tacticians plotting the next big heist. But only damp was in their noses and the steady _drip, drip_ of an unknown water source reached their ears.

Therion detected another tripwire in the dark and they both stepped over it. The last one according to the guard’s idle chatter.

Finally, the tunnel began to lighten. It had seemed much longer to Therion than it was in reality with their pace mimicking that of a watchful feline’s, but he was pleased to know they had made it to the chamber without incident.

The entrance was around the corner, and they knew this bit was going to be the trickiest. There were going to be two guards on duty along with at least five skilled Cianno members and there was nothing to do but take them all on at once. Their only advantage would be the element of surprise. They readied their swords as silently as possible and looked in each other’s eyes as they counted.

_One… two… three…_

“AAAGH!”

They leapt around the corner with all the ferocity of a hyena as the two guards dozing on watch shouted and jumped up in surprise. They were swarmed at once by a small number of men that seemed a lot more to Therion. They were outnumbered one to three.

Despite this, the battle was relatively evenly matched and Therion was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to take them out with a well-timed jab. The Cianno Group picked out only the strongest brutes for their ranks and once again Therion’s nimble physique came in handy against their slow, ruthless attacks. For each forceful swipe of their mammoth blades he sidestepped and dodged with ease, laying several small jabs of his elegant sword in return. He made sure none of the jabs were lethal, just small wounds to weaken the enemies before he could knock them out.

He was ducking a nasty swipe to his head from the last of the three men standing when he heard Darius cry out. Panicked, he turned towards him to see him still fighting, but he had taken a hit to his non-dominant arm, the wound slowly staining his green cape red. The moment of distraction cost him, and he was kicked ferociously in the stomach, winding him and flaring up pain in his recently healed ribs.

He jumped up again, no time to linger, and managed to get behind his opponent and give him a harsh blow to the head with the hilt of his sword. He crumpled to the ground and the sides of Therion’s mouth turned up in triumph despite the aching in his ribs.

_Easy._

He looked over just as Darius ran the last man through with his sword, blood spurting from the wound as he fell to the ground.

Therion stood in shock as Darius sheathed his sword and rubbed his hands together, a grin on his face.

“Nice one. Fancy there only being six of ‘em.” He laughed dryly.

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to kill anyone,” said Therion angrily.

“Nah, we said we wouldn’t kill anyone unless we really _had_ to,” Darius said casually.

Therion was outraged.

“You _didn’t_ have to!”

“Agh, we don’t have time for this,” Darius waved a hand impatiently, “have you got the explosives?”

Therion decided he would continue this conversation later, Darius was right, there was no time.

He sighed irritably and tore off a section of his shawl.

“Here, we’ll sort it out properly later,” he said and tied the piece of material tightly around Darius’ left arm which was now bleeding heavily.”

His partner winced. “Thanks, but we really do need to get a move on.”

Theron nodded and turned to his bag. He pulled out a glass bottle filled with a clear substance, rags of material stuffed inside, and moved over to the large safe in the corner of the room.

The chamber they stood in was huge, the walls uneven, naturally hewn from the stone, meaning that the numerous oil-lamps didn’t quite reach every nook and alcove. The air was stale and damp and there was just a general repulsive atmosphere not suited for a living space. Several roll-mats lined the floor at one end while a large round table was at another. The safe, which was behind the table and tucked into the darkest corner, was absolutely huge. The silver box towered over them, a large metal handle on the front with a complicated lock stopping anyone from entering. Of course, that was irrelevant.

Therion lit his homemade bomb and hurriedly put it in place next to the safe and ran to where Darius was, just outside the entrance, his arms covering his face. The noise of the explosion was deafening, and Therion hoped he hadn’t made the bomb too potent for fear of the whole cave collapsing. A rumble of falling rocks sounded for a little but then stopped.

 _Thank Aeber,_ he thought.

“Fuck Therion, I don’t know how you make those things, you almost brought down the whole damned cave!” said Darius incredulously.

“Well let’s see if it’s actually worked, shall we?” replied Therion and he walked cautiously over to the safe. It had caved in completely, the hinges completely disconnected from the walls.

“Hahaa!” exclaimed Darius, ruffling his hair delightedly, and they both got out empty bags and started filling them with the copious amount of leaves that were overflowing from the safe. Therion grinned in glee as he shoved handful after handful of the coins into the bags. There was way too much for them to carry, they were going to have to leave a lot of it behind.

He hadn’t even realised Darius wasn’t at his side anymore until he heard him shout from the other end of the cave.

“I think I’ve found the leader’s quarters, I’m gonna have a look around, see if there ain’t anythin’ valuable in here.” He called from am entryway partitioned off with a large tapestry that Therion hadn’t noticed was there.

Therion just grunted and continued shovelling gold.

“Anything?” he asked when Darius returned to his side.

“Nah, just more leaves and some plans to rob the bank,” he replied, but he had a mischievous grin on his face.

Therion stopped and looked at him.

“What did you do?” he asked warningly.

Darius snorted.

“Nothin’”

“ _Darius!”_

 _“_ Nothin’!” he said earnestly, his eyebrows raised in false innocence.

“My ass,” said Therion angrily but carried on filling up the last bag.

“Come on, we better get a move on,” urged his partner, the gleam still strong in his eyes.

They both got up and lugged the inanely heavy burlap bags over their shoulders. Therion made a move to go to the room beyond the tapestry to check for anything amiss, but Darius stopped him.

“No time,” he said simply, and he was right. They had been in their long enough and they had not a second to waste. If the troops decided to return now there would be no hiding. They would be done for.

So the two of them raced through the tunnel as fast as they could with their heavy load, and to the beautiful mid-morning sun outside.

Darius let out a whoop of joy.

“We actually did it!” he cried, and Therion returned his glee with a huge smile.

They had _actually_ done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven't exactly got a timetable to for posting each chapter so I'm sorry it's been taking a while, I hope you can bear with me and stick with it!
> 
> Also, thank you for all your kind comments, they make me so happy! and, as always, thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

They drank with cheer that evening, to their flawless plan, to their skill, to their happiness, to their love, to everything their drunken minds could think of. They drank the most expensive mead the tavern owned, and they drank plentifully and with heart.

There were things he wanted to ask his partner, things that needed clearing up, but for now, those could wait. He let his mind focus entirely on the moment and once again, he found himself looking at the man in front of him, thought of all they had been through together and appreciated how much he truly loved him. Darius had given him everything, his whole life was constructed around him and because of him.

And he felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry, Darius,” he said when the conversation lulled a little.

Darius laughed and took a swig of his mead.

“For what?” he asked, but surely he knew, surely he hadn’t forgotten.

“For how I’ve been acting recently, it’s been unforgivable,” he said seriously.

Darius smiled.

“Nah, you’re already forgiven, let’s just move on, yeah?”

Therion was taken aback by his speed to forgive, because surely if the roles were reversed, if he was in Darius’ position, he wouldn’t be so quick to pardon. He didn’t deserve it but appreciated it all the same.

“Yeah,” he replied with a small smile in return. He paused, other matters burning in his mind like wildfire.

“So, can you tell me what we’ve been saving for now? This big plan, surely you can tell me?”

Darius sighed impatiently.

“Look, Therion, give me a few days just to get a few loose ends sorted and then I promise I’ll tell you.”

Therion heart dropped. He was hoping now that they’d carried out their big heist, he could finally find out what it had all been for. But he accepted that Darius had his reasons and the last thing he wanted to do was kill the mood. So he just nodded.

“In a few days?”

“I promise.”

They lay in bed that night both lost in their own thoughts, going over the day in their heads. There was no way Therion was sleeping anytime soon. Despite the alcohol which had had them stumbling home in fits of giggles, he was wide awake, excitement still coursing through his body. He expected Darius was feeling the same.

But through his alcohol-addled thoughts, there was a faint niggle in the back of his mind, a slight feeling that he was forgetting something.

He tried to get his thoughts in order and went over the day again. He still couldn’t believe it had gone so well, it had been perfect in all respects… well, all except one.

Right. Darius had _killed_ someone in there. Without a moment of hesitation, he had slashed a sword through him. Another living being. Killing someone, even your worst enemy, shouldn’t be that easy. He wondered if Darius was thinking about that right now, if he was going over it in his head, wondering if there was anything else he could have done. He looked over at his partner who had his back to him, his face turned away. Surely there had been more to it than Therion had realised. Perhaps there was no way around it after all, perhaps it was that Cianno’s life or his.

Yes, Therion reassured himself, Darius wasn’t a cold-hearted killer. He was aware he could be cruel sometimes to others, heartless even when he needed to be, but murder? No, murder was another matter.

The poor man was probably filled with regret right now, hurting silently, devastated that he had to take a life. Therion’s thoughts turned from fear for his partner to sympathy. Nevertheless, he didn’t speak of it aloud. He told himself it was because it would be a touchy subject for his partner, but there was a small part of him, deep down, that maybe didn’t want to delve into the matter for other reasons.

However, there was another issue. One that Therion felt more comfortable confronting him about.

“Hey, Darius?”

“Yeah,” came the grunt in return.

“What _did_ you do in the Cianno leader’s room?”

Darius snorted.

“Ha, nothin’ bad, I just left a note. Let’s just say we’ve taught them a bit of humility”

Therion sat bolt upright very suddenly.

“What?”

Darius rolled round to face him.

“Chill out, Therion, it was just a bit of fun.”

“But- but you didn’t say who we are, or anything did you?”

“So what if I did, what are they gonna do?”

“You told them who we are?!”

“I just put our names, no one knows who we are around here anyway, they won’t find us, I thought we deserved some credit, even if it is just names on a page.”

“Darius, they are a huge, highly skilled organisation. They’ve murdered in cold-blood anyone who stands in their way-“

“Yeah and we stole thousands of leaves from under their very nose, so obviously they aren’t _that_ highly skilled.”

But Therion was starting to panic.

“We-we have to leave _now_ , they’ll come after us, they’ll slaughter us in our sleep.” He thought of the unlocked door and how exposed they were in an abandoned house in the middle of town and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“Calm down Theri, we don’t have to leave, they won’t find us, trust me.”

“Darius, we’ve left places for less. We’re seriously at risk here, we need to-“

“NO!” Darius shouted angrily and Therion recoiled. The red-headed thief took a couple of deep breathes as if to calm himself before speaking again.

“Just a few more days, and then we can get out of here.”

“But why? We-“

“A few more days, Therion,” he said forcefully, and Therion knew that was that, there was no arguing with him now.

He lay awake, mind in overdrive, plagued with insomnia for very different reasons than it had been a few minutes prior.

Darius was not around the next day. He was ‘tying loose ends’, whatever that meant, but Therion found that suited him well. He needed some time to get his thoughts untangled; the excitement of the heist, his love for Darius, his fear of the Cianno Group, because no matter what Darius said, the threat was real.

He didn’t understand how Darius, so rational and clear-minded in his thinking, couldn’t see that staying here was a bad idea. What would be the harm in leaving? Why did he want to stay?

Not to mention the fact that he had exposed them to the Cianno Group in the first place. He didn’t know what had been going through his mind! Wasn’t he the one who had said how grave a mistake it would be to underestimate the group? Didn’t he warn Therion over and over how dangerous they could be? He remembered how he spoke of them, almost awed by their skills and organisation, and excited, yet also almost disappointed when they found such an easy way to humiliate them.

He felt confused and lost, the excitement held in the aftermath of the operation diluted in doubt and disorder.

He wandered the town that day. The atmosphere seemed more subdued than normal due to Monday blues, or perhaps it was just him, but there was little chatter in the market square, no children playing in the streets. It was quiet and it left Therion space to reflect and worry.

He thieved from none that day, his energy lower than normal, his muscled weighed down with fear. Every corner he turned, every silent street he walked, there was always the dread that some men clad in black would be there waiting.

That night, his slumber was far from restful.

_He dreamed of a man with flaming orange hair. The world was dark, but those locks were like lanterns, his only source of light, and he had no choice but to follow where the possessor went. He was taken through empty black nothingness where the tendrils of darkness ripped at his skin and tore at his clothes. But he followed the light willingly, for even that was better than being lost. Another man appeared, seemingly crafted from the darkness itself, his eyes wide in fear and no weapon to defend himself. The man with the orange hair was merciless in felling him and he died with a blood-curdling scream, glistening rubies pouring from his stomach. His obliterator picked up a handful of the stones and laughed a cold, heartless laugh. The laugh went on and on until Therion was covering his ears because he didn’t want to hear it anymore, make it go away. He screamed to try and drown it out, but the laughter cut through no matter how he screamed his throat raw._

He woke up in a cold sweat, his breathing fast and ragged and his heart racing in his chest.

That week dragged slower than any he could remember. Darius was gone each day before Therion had even woken in the morning, and in the evenings he was distant and vague and seemed to have no time for him. Before long Therion was severely missing his comforting touch, his warm embrace and his soft lips brushing against his.

Therion would ask every day when they were leaving, even sometimes pleaded for him to _please think because you’re going to get us killed,_ but to no avail. His partner was short and impatient and often snapped when he asked.

Every night Therion slept uneasily, his dreams plagued with orange-haired demons and slashing knives. He hated those dreams more than anything. He hated them because they were terrifying, but more so because they seemed an insult to Darius. He shouldn’t be dreaming of his lover in that way. Yet his subconscious was ever the elusive enemy.

There came a day, a week from the heist, a week since he had last felt peace and happiness, that he woke up once again in a cold sweat and knew he couldn’t take much more. He feared for himself, yes, but he also feared for Darius. Every night he was terrified his partner wouldn’t come home and that he would be found, throat slit, on the streets. He didn’t know what he was doing during the day when he was gone and had learned that it was better not to ask, but he found that he didn’t care so much what he was doing but _where_ he was and if he was safe.

But no, he couldn’t take much more of this. Tonight, he would speak to Darius. He would tell him they were leaving no matter what. He would tell him that if he refused to leave, he would leave without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a filler chapter, so I apologise. I originally wrote this chapter and the next one together but it was so much longer than all the others so I split it. Unfortunately, that meant leaving this one a bit uneventful. Still, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, I have zero schedule for posting this so you here's another chapter already!

He hated the side of himself that had come out this past week. Paranoid and fearful he was, and so unlike his usual confident and snarky self. It wasn’t unusual for him to be riddled with self-loathing, but he did take pride in that side of his personality. Because although he was small and didn’t look like much, he had learned to defend himself better than most soldiers (not that soldiers around here actually had any skill) and not just physically either. There was a wall of defence around his personality too.

But now he was a mess; a single drunken shout in the night would make him grab for his dagger and a dark cloaked figure in broad daylight would have him clutching for his heart.

Deep down he knew that part of the reason he felt so exposed was that Darius wasn’t around to protect him. And that was a thought that in itself sent a strong wave of terror through his veins. He shouldn’t be that dependent on anyone. He couldn’t afford to be in this line of work, in the life that he led.

With his plan to speak to Darius that evening in mind, he walked, as usual, through the streets of Saintsbridge, lost in thought yet ready, always ready for a sly and sudden attack. At the house he felt like a sitting duck, and further out of town was quiet, no one to hear him scream as it were, so he had taken to sticking to the market square and the streets around the cathedral for here there would always be someone there to at least witness his gruesome death.

He didn’t know entirely how he ended up outside the Saintsbridge inn that day, but that was where his feet had seemed to lead him whilst his brain had been daydreaming about the comfort of Darius’ skin against his and of old times where the spark of their love had burned the brightest. But there he was in front of the heavy wooden door in the lower town, and for the life of him, he couldn’t think why that would be. He felt a sort of odd longing for something hidden behind those walls and he furrowed his brows in confusion.

Suddenly the door opened and Therion’s heart seemed to skip a beat when he saw who was framed there.

“Therion?” a rough but kind Riverlands accented voice said in surprise, “well I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

Therion quickly rearranged the unwanted happiness that, for some reason, had suddenly decided to take residence in his mind for the first time in a week. The apothecary. How had he forgotten about the apothecary.

“Er- are you alright?” Alfyn asked and Therion realised he had just been standing there in silent astonishment. Hopefully Alfyn had just found it intimidating.

“Fine,” he replied harshly, finding his voice.

“Why were you at the inn?” Gods, he almost sounded hopeful. Therion refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Wasn’t, I was just walking past,” he said, but he couldn’t seem to look Alfyn in the eye.

“Oh.” Alfyn took a step and then stopped again, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Well, I’m off to the tavern for a drink if you wanna join me?”

Therion looked at him thinking maybe he was joking, but all he saw was a certain understanding in those eyes like he had him all figured out. Which he didn’t. Obviously.

Therion said nothing and after a while, Alfyn shrugged and turned away.

“Wait,” said Therion, and in all of Orsterra, he could not fathom why his words had betrayed him like that.

Alfyn turned around in surprise.

Therion sighed and spoke again.

“Ok,” he said.

“Drinks are on me,” Alfyn said merrily as the barkeep slid across two tankards.

Therion snorted.

“How do you even have any leaves at all, you work for free?”

But he let him pay anyway and was mildly annoyed by how, instead of looking affronted by Therion’s rudeness, Alfyn just gave him an amused grin.

As they turned away, drinks in hand, Therion could have sworn the barkeep had given him a wink. He stared blades into that man’s eyes and to his satisfaction, his ever-charming smile faltered slightly.

They sat down at a table on the opposite end of the room from his and Darius’ usual spot, and it felt odd looking at the room from such a different angle. Here they were near the warm fireplace that was lit all day and it was nice and cosy.

“So, how are you doin’? I kinda thought you had left town; I haven’t seen you around.”

Therion’s focus snapped to the man opposite him. His face was lit by the fire giving his skin a warm glow and his hair still stuck up ridiculously.

Therion shrugged.

“We had business here.”

“Right… you and your… boyfriend?”

He posed that last word as a question and it sounded strange to Therion. He had never considered Darius his ‘boyfriend’. It was such a casual word and Darius meant so much more. He was the love of his life, the man he couldn’t live without, he was a part of him so completely that no word could ever do their bond justice. Back when they had met, they had felt such strong feelings towards each other so quickly that they didn’t need to put it into words. It had been so intense, so utterly unlike anything Therion had ever felt before. It hadn’t been discussed or initiated; it just _was._

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, but the way he hurt you, I just-“

“Leave it,” snarled Therion. This was the last thing he wanted to discuss with a doltish apothecary who probably didn’t have the brain cells to love that deeply in the first place.

Alfyn looked like he wanted to say more, but thank Aeber, he bit his tongue.

"Heheh," he laughed, awkwardly trying to fill the gap in their already dwindling conversation, "I sure am glad you said yes to comin' here with me Therion, I really appreciate it!" 

Therion didn't know what to say to that, He cursed himself internally for being such a crappy conversation maker.

“Can I ask you something?” Alfyn said suddenly, "It might be a bit personal so feel free not to answer."

Therion said nothing and Alfyn seemed to take it as an invitation to carry on.

“Why do you steal?” he asked.

Therion laughed humourlessly.

“It’s not a choice, I have to, to survive.”

But he thought of the past few years and realised this was not necessarily true. The boy who had stolen the bare minimum to survive those many years ago after his mother had died was gone. He would never have taken from others unless absolutely necessary, and even then, he had felt huge amounts of guilt for every single leaf, every scrap he took. Those were not good times, and yet he felt sadness for that boy he had so easily forgotten over the years. That boy had been so innocent, kind even, but he had been diluted with hate and misery to become… what had he become?

He thought of something Darius had said once.

“Besides, there’s something very compelling about being a thief. The whole world is there for the taking.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to step on others for your own gain.”

Therion frowned at him in disbelief.

“I’m a thief. It’s my occupation.”

“Right, but like you said, you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

He thought of the mountain of gold he and Darius had collected over the past couple of years, sitting somewhere to be used in a plan for their own gain. He looked down at his tankard of beer, suddenly feeling awfully ashamed.

“Right,” he agreed.

There was a pause.

And then Therion spoke, once again his words betraying him.

“Why did you invite me here?”

Alfyn looked at him curiously.

“Heh, I dunno. I guess there’s just somethin’ about you, Therion. You might be rude and a bit prickly, but I think you might be real nice underneath.”

Was he flirting? _Why the fuck would a guy like him want to flirt with someone like me?_

The thought had just slipped out. Alfyn was naïve and stupid and too nice for his own good. _I’m the one who’s better, why would_ I _want someone like_ him _?_ he corrected himself.

 _Why the fuck would anyone even want to be associated with you?_ said a voice deeper down, a voice that was filled with spite and hate, one that had made itself known all too often recently _, you’re useless, cruel, stupid and hopeless, this guy_ must _be naïve to be talking to you. He’s not flirting, he’s just making conversation. Out of pity._

“No,” he said out loud, his thoughts tearing each other apart and him with it.

“Ah, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Therion was confused for a second, had he said that out loud? No, he had forgotten what they were talking about before. He thought back and then looked at him in amazement. He was complimenting him. Darius would never have-

 _No, you_ love _Darius_.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he blurted out suddenly. His thoughts were so loud, giving him a headache, and it seemed all the confusion in his head had taken away his self-control.

“Oh,” said Alfyn, taken aback. He actually looked disappointed. “Why?”

“We never stay in the same place for a long time.”

“Therion,” he said quietly, leaning in a little. “is _he_ making you go?”

“He doesn’t _make_ me do anything,” he said angrily, and then calmer, “I want to go.”

Alfyn looked upset and Therion hated it. Why, he couldn’t fathom, it’s not like he knew the guy. It’s not like he _liked_ the guy.

He _had_ helped him out of a tricky spot though.

He found himself speaking without the permission of his brain once again.

“I just wanted to say thanks for helping me the other day,” he said into his tankard, “I would probably still be in a lot of pain if it weren’t for you so…”

“No problem,” said the apothecary, not looking at him directly.

There was a silence again. It was long and drawn out and uncomfortable. Therion fidgeted with a splinter of wood that was peeling from the side of the table.

“Why do you care if I leave anyway?” he asked awkwardly, partly to break the silence but partly because he truly wanted to know.

Alfyn up at him with a strange expression.

“Why did you come to the inn today?”

That caught him off guard.

“I… I don’t know,” he said dumbly and Alfyn just nodded.

“Look, Therion, I probably wouldn’t be saying his if you were staying in Saintsbridge but…”

He took a breath as if readying himself.

“Your boyfriend… shucks, how do I say this... He’s abusive Therion.”

Therion looked up, his eyes warning the apothecary not to continue. But continue he did, quickly as if trying to get it over with.

“I’m sure you love him, and I’m sure he can be nice sometimes, but he ain’t good for you.” He looked at Therion again nervously, "I-I coulda worded that better..."

Therion’s blood was boiling. He was shaking with anger, but when he got his voice back, his words were calm.

“You have _no idea._ You have _no_ right…”

“He beat you up, he left you in an alley in the cold and dark!” Alfyn said, shooting not anger, but concern, right back at him.

But that was it. Therion stood up suddenly, scraping his chair back along the floor and he hit the table hard with his fist. He could hear the noises of the tavern die down a little.

“You don’t know my life!” his voice was no longer steady, emotion cracked its surface, “You have no right to judge with your perfect life, growing up here in the Riverlands. You have no clue! No clue about anything!”

And with that, he marched out the door, not a glance for the apothecary sat in the corner of the room by the fireplace.

He strode angrily all the way back to the house, the cool air buffeting off his face as it tried with no avail to calm him. He slammed open the door without stopping and but then halted in surprise when he reached the room in which they slept.

Darius was back.

It was mid-afternoon and Darius was back.

The surprise didn’t last for long though and anger flooded back into his veins, unstoppable in its need for release.

“Darius! We need to talk, I-“

“We’re leaving tomorrow for the Cliftlands.”

Darius said it with a smile on his face, unaware of Therion’s wayward emotions.

Therion stood there in surprise.

“Oh,” he said.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day they packed up what little stuff they had, just as Therion had set his mind to do the previous day. He was more than delighted he wasn’t going alone, although he was pretty sure that had always been an empty threat in his mind.

He thought of Alfyn a lot, just like he had once in the past, but he did not delve into why nor worry about what it meant for they were leaving Saintsbridge and he was never going to set eyes on that damned apothecary again.

He couldn’t lie that their argument hadn’t rattled him a little, stupid as it was for someone he knew so little, but he had found himself replaying it over in his head. Truth is, he _had_ been questioning Darius’ motives lately. He had been asking his partner every other day about the secrets he kept and the short dismissals he got in return did nothing to soothe his doubt. Why had Darius left that note? How had he killed that Cianno so mercilessly? What was this big plan involving their life savings? And where was the gold being kept?

He hated to admit it, but there had been times over the past long nights that he had doubted there was any ‘plan’ at all. But no, Darius would never betray him like that. He cursed that wretched Riverlands man for planting these toxic seeds in his mind.

They were heading for Orewell next; a place rich in materials ready for the taking, and, according to Darius, where the next stage of this plan would commence.

“You might benefit from sturdier shoes Theri, those’ll be murder up in the Mountains,” Darius said very soon before they were set to leave, looking at Therion’s soft leather shoes, perfect for silent footsteps.

But Therion was confused.

“Mountains?”

“Yeah, we’re bottle ‘n’ chalkin’ the Murkwood Trail.”

“But… that way goes miles through the rockiest parts of the Cliftlands. It would be easier to go via Riverford, the trail there goes straight through the middle of the cliffs, there’d be no climbing.”

Darius sighed irritably.

“You know, partner, there was a time not so long ago that you would follow me without question.”

“Perhaps I’ve realised that following without question isn’t a partnership at all.”

It was risky, and Therion was sure he’d gone too far. He readied himself for at least a hard slap. But to his surprise, Darius’ expression of anger melted into one of mild restraint and the corner of his mouth flicked upwards.

“We’ll leave for The Murkwood within the hour,” he said as if it had never been debated.

And so they did. They left the townhouse with nothing but the small bags they carried everywhere, holding but a purse of leaves, a couple of blankets and some food for the journey ahead. There was no trace of the gold they had stolen from the Ciannos, just as had been the case with the Redhurst gold when they had travelled from Quarrycrest to Saintsbridge. Therion knew better than to ask after it. Aeber knew he had tried countless times before. But unlike previous journeys where his trust for Darius had stifled any worry or doubt like a douter to a flame, he found himself wondering if he would ever see it again. He also found himself not caring so much about the leaves, but rather what that would mean for his and Darius’ relationship if he _had_ betrayed him, a relationship he cherished more than any riches.

Darius was in a strange mood as they travelled westward. He was restless and excited, talking more than he ever usually did, and he was in better temperament than Therion had seen him for years. It soon rubbed off onto Therion and his woes were temporarily forgotten as they trudged through the dark woodland path, Darius exclaiming about their fortunate luck with the weather or reminiscing about good times past.

“Fuck, Theri, I can just see me life planned out now, it’s all comin’ together,” he mused after a while of pleasant nonchalance’s, “Soon there’ll be no uncertainty, no more worryin’ about the future...” he trailed off and Therion smiled. It was so unlike his partner to be so idealistically in the clouds. It was nice to see him like this; happy, carefree almost. His love for him bloomed a deep blood red.

Therion found it a relief to be back on the road again. He found those towns so claustrophobic at times. If he had it his way, he and Darius would stay away from people altogether and live in the wilderness foraging for food. It’s not stealing if it’s nature’s possession, she gives freely to all who are in need whether they be thieves or scholars. But he knew that would never be enough for Darius. He needed a rich life, one full of adventure and luxury. And someday maybe they’d even reach that.

They encountered a couple of Howlers and Wanderweeds, but they felled them with ease, their minds and bodies working in tandem as they carried out their well-practised attacks. He had been fighting alongside Darius for so long, it was almost as if they could read each other’s minds. They were the perfect duo and no enemy stood a chance. Otherwise, their journey was uneventful.

Eventually, they reached the mountains. The path wound deep along the bottom of the valley between two steep crags but was still far from even underfoot. It was treacherous going and their legs soon grew tired, their feet aching. What was more, if they had gone the southern route, they could have stopped overnight at Riverford. Here, there was no place to rest so when night began to fall, they set up their blankets in a small, sheltered overhang where the night’s chill found them easily. Despite all this, Darius’ mood remained stubbornly and uncharacteristically optimistic throughout. It was wonderful for the first leg of their journey, but as they settled down for the night and Therion’s mood became drearier, he eventually grew tired of Darius’ light-heartedness.

There was something very… _wrong_ about this whole thing. He couldn’t put a finger on it, perhaps it was in the air, perhaps it was the product of all the change that had come to pass in their time in Saintsbridge. But something was different.

When he tried vocalising this to Darius, he just laughed it off.

“You always have to find something wrong with a situation, don’t you Theri?”

_True but hypocritical._

That night under the overhang went quickly and Therion slept well despite the whistling wind and biting chill. He was unbelievably weary from the hard day's travel. But when he woke up, Darius was already wide awake and cooking apples on the fire. Therion’s favourite.

“Did you even sleep last night?” he asked him in wonder.

“Better than I ever have in me life,” Darius replied with a grin.

Despite this, Darius’ good mood seemed a little more subdued as they walked through the valley that morning and crossed the border into the Cliftlands, starting the long ascent into the cliffs. The ground turned from the healthy, vibrant green grass of the Riverlands to the empty, dusty orange of the Cliftlands. Gods, he _hated_ the Cliftlands. And yet it was always where they seemed to end up. Dirty thieves belonged in dirty places, he guessed.

It wasn’t long before they got to the top of the lowest of the cliffs. Despite being the bottommost of the overhangs, it was still very high, and it seemed the whole of Osterra was laid out in front of them. The Cliftlands were spread out before him, a dry wasteland of his own crushed hopes for life. He could see Orewell and Quarrycrest and Bolderfall and the beginnings of the Whisperwood. Up here it seemed so small and distant like he was looking at his life and his past from the view of the Gods. No wonder they didn’t care. It all seemed so very insignificant.

As they walked along the ledge, they got to a place where the path was unclear, leaving two options for travel: one across the cliffs to the left, and one that climbed further up to the right. Darius made his way to the right.

“I think we go left here, partner,” Therion said.

“No,” Darius replied, “I know the way.” He started walking and muttered, “Fuck, Theri, there used to be a time you trusted me with stuff like this.”

Therion was fed up with these comments about his lack of trust that had been becoming more and more frequent over the past month. Of course he trusted him. Hadn’t he followed him like a sheep to a shepherd ever since he had first known him? Hadn’t he devoted his whole life to his love for him, looked at him in awe, given him all he had? And gladly too.

So he followed. Up and up they climbed in what Therion was certain was the wrong direction. But he followed anyway, for that was all he knew how to do, until they reached the top which revealed itself to be a smaller overhang. And a dead-end.

Therion hoped Darius wouldn’t be angry that he had been mistaken.

“No matter,” Therion said quickly, trying to diffuse any anger Darius might be feeling. He really didn’t want an argument right now. He was tired and hot and stiff. “We can just go back the way we came, we’re not that far off course,” he said with false brightness. He still had that odd feeling in his stomach, the feeling that something just wasn’t quite right.

“I know what I’m doing Therion, I made no mistake.”

If he wanted to deny it, then so be it.

“Ok, it was probably my fault, we can just go back and get on course.”

“You have no respect for me Therion,” Darius said bluntly.

Therion grew weary. How did Darius not understand how much he loved him?

He suddenly felt an overwhelming need for Darius to know how much he meant to him and words burst out of him before he could stop them.

“I do, Darius, I trust you with my life and I love you with my whole heart, I’d follow you to the ends of Osterra if you wanted me to, I’d follow you right off this cliff.”

Darius looked at him for a second, a blank expression on his face, and Therion wondered if he was going to react at all. And then his features started to change. Very slowly, like the moving of a clock hand; so slowly he didn’t even see the muscles moving until they had moved, his face turned to a terrifying grin. Therion didn’t know why it was so frightening exactly, but it reminded him of a hyena, teeth bared, laughing at its meal just before it ripped it into bloody pieces. Suddenly Therion wasn’t looking at the man he loved, but the vicious man who had been hiding underneath him all this time. And it was all revealed in a single, petrifying countenance.

When Darius spoke, there was humour behind his words, a humour not meant to be shared with anyone but himself.

“Well, that makes what I’m about to do a bit awkward then,” he said, and the next thing Therion knew he was parrying a blow from Darius’ sword.

“Agh, D-Darius? What are you doing?”

“D-d-d-Darius?” he said in a low mockery of Therion’s voice and he attacked again. Therion, shocked and dismayed as he was, stood no chance against Darius’ brute strength and his sword was knocked away, way down the cliff edge. Therion realised then that he himself was very close to the edge now too, Darius had pushed him backwards, cornering him. There was nowhere to go.

Darius slashed again, this time getting the front of Therion’s cloak, drawing a painful line across his chest and bringing him to his knees.

Therion couldn’t think straight. What was happening? This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

“Why, Darius? Why are you doing this? I don’t understand,” he choked.

Darius considered him and then, always a flair for the dramatics, like a fucking supervillain from a story, he started to explain his motives, an evil glint in his eye that Therion knew deep down had always been there and he had just been too blind to see it.

He really just couldn’t comprehend this sudden turn of events. It was like a dream. A nightmare.

“It’s simple. You remember that night we humiliated the Ciannos, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good! You told me they’d come for revenge, and they did. More specifically, they came for me, after I left that note on their desk asking to join them. If I did what they wanted they said they’d find a nice, high place for me in their midst. That’s why you have to die. They want you gone and so do I.”

“What!? Why would you join them, Darius? You- you love me.” But even as he said it, he realised that he hadn’t told him that for a very, very long time.

“Hah,” he spat, “ _loved_ you? I _hate_ you. It pained me every fuckin’ day to pretend to love you. You’re pitiful, and no one could ever like you, even if they tried.”

It was as if all Therion’s doubts, all his fears and nightmares throughout his whole life were coming true. There was nothing, _nothing,_ worse than this.

“I hate to do this to you, but it was bound to happen, _love,”_ he said that last word with a deep, hating sarcasm, “just looking at you makes me Tom and Dick! You were blessed with such skill. I’ve never seen anyone as good as you. So when we met, I knew I needed you on me side. And you were so easily manipulated by cheap words! There was never any _plan_. I gave all that money to the Cianno Group to enter their ranks with honour. I’ve been plannin’ this for years right under your stupid nose. But then recently you started to doubt me, to question me. Why couldn’t you just stay a naïf!? Everything woulda been fine if you just did what I said! But you just had to prove yourself better didn’t you? Telling me to do it _this_ way or _that_ way. Well I’ve had enough!”

“So you’re just going to kill me, and that’s that?” Tears were streaming traitorously down his face. Through all his trials, through all his time in this fucking pit of a world, he never cried, but now the dam had broken. There was no dignity left to hold onto.

“Damn right! Without you around, I can do things me _own_ way!”

Therion tried desperately to regain some composure. What could he do, how could he get out of this? He couldn’t think straight.

“That’s a bit drastic don’t you think… partner?”

“Don’t call me ‘partner’! We’re not equals! You’re nothing but a stepping stool to me! You’re worth less than the scum beneath me daisies, and I’ll prove it!”

And with that Darius ran towards him for the very last time and kicked him right in the stomach. Therion didn’t even try to protect himself, he just let him do it.

And he fell down, down over the cliff edge, doomed to reach his end in the place he hated more than anywhere else, the laughter of his once lover following him into the cold, reaching arms of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I used a lot of the canon script but had fun tweaking it to fit the story so a lot of the dialogue at the end wasn't written by me.
> 
> Also, I've been trying to fit some Cockney rhyming slang in for so long now and I finally got some in haha!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicidal thoughts in this chapter.
> 
> This is a whole lot of feelings and not much else...

He seemed to fall forever, a thousand thoughts rushing through his head in the space of what must only have been a few seconds. In the quiet moments before his death, his life was laid before him like a great, dark, twisting map of paths he took and paths he didn’t. It seemed whichever path he did take there was just this. The cold agony of betrayal.

SMASH.

And then pain, so much pain. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was drowning and the world was rushing around him, throwing him this way and that way and he was powerless to stop it. There was a loud roaring in his ears and when he tried to take a breath, there was no air. His arm hit something hard and pain flared through that too, he didn’t know there could be more pain to feel but there it was.

It was confusing and cold and dark and rough.

Then there was something solid, solid where everything else was substanceless and he held that something for dear life. He pulled himself up and there was oxygen again. It felt like needles in his lungs.

He was still. There was nothing pulling him about anymore. He could finally rest.

Therion had often wondered what death would be like. Would it be that sweet relief blessed by the Gods that most of Orsterra’s people believed in? Would it be full of heat and fire like the places he had been warned that thieves and murderers ended up? Would it simply be nothing, his consciousness lost forever, gone from the world? When he wondered, he often hoped it would be the latter.

But all he felt now was pain. Such terrible, terrible, unimaginable pain, in his body, but more so in his heart. That wasn’t fair, was it? Death should at least give him release from the agony of life. But when had anything ever been fair?

He drifted along, some thoughts coherent, others nonsensical. He thought of his life. His mother, the only truly kind person he had ever known. She had died so young. When he was so young. He had no one left after that. He had tried to live without stealing but had ended up a starving pile of bones on the floor of Bolderfall and it had been an awful realisation that his only options were to turn to debauchery or die a slow, painful death. What kind of choice was that for a boy of nine?

And then later in his greatest hour of need, a beautiful, strong boy had offered him a hand of support. How then could he have chosen not to take it?

And then he recalled a thousand other non-choices. When that beautiful orange-haired boy had asked him to be his partner in crime. When he had kissed him for the first time; the most magical experience he had ever had. Or when he had lain in his bed for the first time and melded his body with his in a gentle, beautiful act. And then when that act started to become rougher and more selfish, and yet he had still said yes; he had still given his body and mind up so willingly. And then when that man (for at some point they had become men) had asked him to join him and rule the world. How could he have said no?

Suddenly it seemed his life had not been his. He had been tricked. These choices hadn’t been choices. And they all lead to this moment.

He couldn’t move, not that he wanted to, the pain was too intense. He couldn’t locate any single injury, it was everywhere. Every bone felt broken, every muscle snapped.

How long had he been here? he wondered. An hour? A day? A lifetime?

Large birds circled above, squawking and cawing and waiting. They would peck him to little pieces and take him far away. Perhaps they would take him to another land, one that was peaceful and kind. Was there such a place? They would start with the soft tissue of his eyeballs. That was good. He didn’t want to see this barren wasteland of a place anymore.

But it seemed they too were waiting for his last breath before they acted.

This whirlwind inside him was eating him up. The betrayal he felt was more than emotion, it was alive. He had loved so much. He had given away his heart, and his lover had thrown it back in tatters.

Could death not just come quicker? He supposed, after all this, he deserved it slow and drawn out. Darius had called him pitiful. He _was_ pitiful. And he was in pain and he wanted to die, he wanted to die, HE WANTED TO FUCKING DIE!

Tears leaked slowly from his eyes, mixing with blood across his nose and onto the dusty floor.

The physical hurt and the mental agony fused together into relentless, agonising torture, so intense there were no words that could ever possibly describe it.

The birds were growing restless. _Take me_ , he tried to call to them but to no avail. He choked up more blood.

There was a voice on the wind. Perhaps it was Death finally come to collect.

He didn’t think it was possible, but the pain was getting worse. _Ok,_ he pleaded, _if not death, let me at least pass out._

The voice was getting louder, he wasn’t imagining it after all. He thought it was shouting his name.

Blood bubbled from his mouth and his breathing was getting shallower. Death was near, he thought with relief.

“Therion?!”

 _Leave me to die in peace, won’t you?_ His mind replied.

“THERION?!”

The voice got closer every time it called.

“THERION?! THERION?! THERION?!”

Death would not be so brash.

“Therion?”

There was something different in that voice now. Something broken and sad. It was so close now.

He felt himself be rolled over and the pain was immensely intensified. But he made no sound. He couldn’t.

 _Leave me, please_ , his mind called out.

“Dohter help me,” the voice said.

And finally, _finally,_ he succumbed to darkness.

For a time he was elsewhere. Later when he tried, he could not remember where or what it was, but it had allowed him a respite from the immense destruction that had befallen him. It was neither here nor there and frankly, Therion had no time for the wishy-washy nonsense that was the afterlife or wasn’t the afterlife or whatever the fuck it might have been. But for a time he knew nothing, and it was good.

And then reality would leak into this nothing like dreams and nightmares, slowly at first and then all at once. The touch of a hand to his forehead or the general agony of his mind. Then light filtered through and then sound joined it, so he got a vague sense of the world around him. Sun, sand, heat, pain.

Time was not with him and he didn’t care for it, so he didn’t know how long it had been when he opened his eyes properly for the first time.

“Therion?” a tentative voice said, and then, “It’s alright, just don’t move.”

It was not alright; he knew that much. Nothing was alright and it never would be again. But the voice was soothing and kind.

He stared into the sky. It was so blue. He didn’t think he would ever see that again.

The voice was asking him questions. He vaguely recognised the timbre, but he didn’t have the energy to figure it out.

He was warm and there were blankets around him, but the floor was hard and cold. He didn’t hurt quite as much as he did before, the pain inside him had dulled to a bleak empty void. It wasn’t a relief though, he almost preferred that intense pain he had before.

He stared at the sky. The blue, blue sky. There were wispy white clouds now. If he had died, he wouldn’t be seeing them.

He closed his eyes again and then he was falling. He woke up with a start. It was dark now.

He thought he had never known betrayal before, he hadn’t been close to many people. It turned out he had been betrayed perpetually his whole life. It was never-ending and pointless. He wondered if he was still close to the cliffs. Perhaps he could find a way to jump off again.

_You didn’t jump, he pushed you._

_He_. The man with the orange hair. The man he loved more than anything.

He closed his eyes again.

His heart leapt as he woke once more. He never seemed to hit the ground.

The world was quiet and peaceful. There was a fire in his body that was burning, and knives were stabbing and twisting in his flesh. It grounded him.

“Therion?” said a voice filled with sorrow. He thought he had taken all the sorrow in the world; it was a wonder there was any left for anyone else.

“Therion, you don’t have to speak but, whatever happened, I’m here. You’re gonna be ok.”

The dust had left his lungs and he felt a little more hydrated. He could tell they were still in the Cliftlands. The sun beat down, mercilessly as ever, but it could not thaw the ice in his heart.

Tears fell very slowly across his cheeks. They were warm and wet and comforting, and it blurred the blue sky and the sun in his eyes.

He felt a cloth at his face wiping them away.

He drifted off again.

He woke up a number of times, each one filled with pain and despair and the wish he would just leave this world forever. It must have been days of staring into the sky, days of that deep, aching emptiness that that was more than skin deep. Sometimes he was spoon-fed and sometimes he was being forced to drink water. He made no acknowledgement. It was all tasteless and bland. The voice would speak to him sometimes. Sometimes it would not. He didn’t care either way.

He woke up one morning to a low sunlight. Birds were cawing in the sky and the dust was less heavy in the air than usual.

“Therion?”

Ever so slowly, he moved his eyes to look at the source of the voice.

It was the apothecary. Alfyn. His hair stuck up at odd angles, his cheeks were rosy, but he was not wearing his signature cheery smile. A spark of emotion ignited deep down somewhere inside him.

Alfyn perked up when he saw him looking at him.

“Th-Therion? Can you hear me?”

Therion nodded slowly. Alfyn’s grim expression broke into an enormous grin.

For some reason that made him very sad.

He looked around him. They were at the bottom of a cliff, hidden by a mass of undergrowth to one side and the rush of water could be heard beyond it, but some had been cleared to make space for the two of them and a fire which burned low on what was left of a log, now mostly ash.

He was bundled up in woollen blankets and he could feel bandages covering his entire body. One arm was out of the bundle and was held straight by a wooden splint. The pain, much like the fire, had dulled down to slow-burning embers. He didn’t have clothes on, but that didn’t bother him as much as it once would have.

“You weren’t respondin’ for days, I didn’t know if…” Alfyn cleared his throat.

“I did what I could with the resources I had. There was no way I could move you,” he continued, watching him intently.

Therion said nothing in return.

“That bein’ said, we do need to move on reasonably soon. We’re runnin’ low on food and this place here doesn’t have much in the way of natural nourishment.”

Still, he would not, could not, answer.

“Clearbrook is about a day and a half walk from here, it’s the closest town besides Bolderfall, but there ain’t much in Bolderfall to be honest. Not the nicest place I’ve been. Zeph can help as well, he’s my friend there. I grew up with him, he’s like a brother.”

Therion’s eyes went back to the sky. He could feel Alfyn’s gaze as he watched him.

This wasn’t the end after all.

Fuck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter where Therion is just trying to recover. The plot will pick up soon and you'll get some answers, but I hope you enjoy this one for now!

Alfyn told him that it was a miracle of the Gods that he was still alive. The height he had fallen from would’ve killed him, exactly as it had been meant to, but what hadn’t been taken into consideration was the deep river that ran along the bottom of the cliffs. Alfyn had seen him fall. Therion didn’t know why he had been there to see it and he didn’t care to ask, but he had told him he had scoured that river all the way down until he found him, bruised and bloodied on its banks.

“You must’ve pulled yourself up,” he said, “and thank the Gods you did too!”.

It was the strange thing, the bodies will to survive, even when the mind could not fathom another day of living. A strange, awful thing.

He had a broken arm, broken ribs, a cracked skull, some ligament damage and other general scrapes and bruising.

A miracle. He had never wanted a fucking miracle less.

They stayed by the riverbank for a long time, exactly how long, he didn’t know. His hours consisted of sleeping mainly. Sleeping and staring at the sky and trying to block out Alfyn’s talking. He tried not to think. When he thought… well, it was unbearable. Eventually, there came a time when staying where they were was doing more harm than good. Despite the river, all that grew around the Cliftlands was scrub, so food was scarce, and he needed the right nutrients to heal or something.

They tried moving in stages. The first day they managed about ten metres, Therion was unable to support any of his weight and everything was screaming in agony. Alfyn encouraged him the whole way telling him he could do it, that it didn’t matter if they didn’t make it very far, that every step was an accomplishment. His unwavering optimism was very annoying.

The next day was much the same, the fire in his broken body doing nothing to awaken the numbness of his heart.

The next day was more successful. “A real achievement!” according to Alfyn. He felt nothing, but they had managed bit by bit to walk about a quarter of a mile.

‘A day and a half,’ Alfyn said it usually took.

It took them one agonising week.

“If it were any other situation, I woulda put you on bed rest for a month, but sometimes you just gotta improvise,” Alfyn told him, his cheeriness seemingly never tiring.

Sometimes he tried to get Therion to talk. It wielded no results, but it seemed the apothecary talked enough for the both of them. He would point out the plants and flowers around them speaking of their healing properties, or of the prettiest ones, how deadly they were, he would tell stories of his childhood with his friend Zeph, and the villagers from Clearbrook who had brought him up. Therion hated it, but he supposed it was better than silence.

He practically carried Therion the whole way, awkwardly so as not to hurt his ribs and cause him more injury. Therion could have probably helped a bit more, he didn’t know, but he really wished Alfyn would just leave him behind. He kept expecting the apothecary to give up and to drop him, to leave him to rot on that dusty road because it was too much effort to carry him all the way. He never did though.

One of the days they got a passing traveller to help them which cut a significant chunk into their overwhelmingly long journey. Therion was propped up between the two of them while they made idle and pleasant chatter. Therion couldn’t even bring himself to feel humiliated.

Eventually they passed the gates of Bolderfall. It sparked an old emotion in Therion. Hatred, nostalgia, anger. It was more emotion than he had felt in days. Alfyn had wanted to stop there as it was the closest town to where he had fallen, but Therion had silently refused.

Alfyn must have been exhausted carrying Therion all that way along with his own bag, but he showed no sign of any wavering strength. Therion’s own bag had been next to him when he was found, but he had signalled for it to be left behind. They had bought those matching bags together, him and…

No, he wouldn’t think about him. That was all he tried to do all day every day, not think about _him._

It was the longest journey of Therion's life, but he couldn’t say he was relieved or pleased when it was over. His life stretched before him, short and empty and dark and if he had it his way he would end it right there.

They were welcomed in Clearbrook with open arms and huge smiles. It was a small, quaint village where everyone seemed to know everyone and despite living right next to it for most of his life, Therion had never actually visited it. It was exactly the kind of place he hated.

After the villagers had sufficiently questioned Alfyn about where he had been, what he had been doing and who his injured but very handsome new travelling companion was, they got him settled at Alfyn’s old house in the most comfortable bed Therion had ever slept in. To him, it might as well have been rocks.

Alfyn told him he needed to stay in bed for as long as it took to heal, but he gave no time to when that would be. Therion didn’t argue or complain, he just lay there and slept and lay there and slept. It was all he seemed to be able to do.

Days went by and then weeks. Alfyn sat resolutely beside him for the majority of each day speaking of how it was to be back in his home village and catch up with everyone, and most importantly be back with Zeph. He kept up the cheery, optimistic tone throughout which still irritated Therion sometimes, but he didn’t know what he would’ve done without it either. Perhaps he would just disappear completely. He didn’t see Zeph much, he guessed he thought it best to stay away and so he would occasionally be a shadow in the background, one that Therion had no energy to notice fully.

Alfyn did everything to coax words from Therion’s lips, anything to spark just the faintest reaction. He brought food fit for kings prepared lovingly himself from ingredients he had gathered from the woods. Therion ate none of it. He told stories from books with as much passion as if they were stories from his own life. Therion didn’t listen. He would rewrap his bandages merrily, sometimes whistling a tune, yet gaining no reaction to the white-haired thief.

He heard hushed voices outside his room sometimes and the words buffeted his woollen mind gently.

“He should be better by now.”

“I know, I don’t know what happened, but he’s clearly been through somethin’ awful, Zeph… I just- I don’t know what to _do.”_

“We’ve seen this before Alf. Granted not to this extent, but he’ll heal from it, just like he is his physical wounds. It just might take a bit of time.”

“I dunno, what if he doesn’t heal? What if he’s actually broken, Zeph? What would I do then?” the voice was cracked and full of pain, strange for someone usually so optimistic.

Therion closed his ears off then. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to be here, it was- it was all too much.

It was like he wasn’t him anymore. His personality, his spirit, his consciousness, everything that made him, him, was gone. A deep, murky pit was in its place and it was big and lonely and dark. His thoughts echoed around in there, lost and disjointed and foggy.

When he slept, he fell. He fell and fell and never landed. He was stuck in midfall forever, not up, not down, not anywhere, but he couldn’t even bring himself to crave solid land. He was gone. He was an empty shell of darkness and misery and he just wanted it to end because whatever was the point of living?

One day, perhaps three weeks after they had arrived in Clearbrook, he awoke to sunshine. His window was open, and it made the air in his room less stuffy. It fell through the window and into his room, draping itself across the furniture, bathing the room in a yellow-gold light.

And sometime when he had been asleep, a tree branch had made its way through the window, magically it seemed for it couldn’t have grown overnight. But there it was, and on it grew a single red apple.

Therion stared at it for a long time. For a while he felt nothing, just the deep pit of darkness he had gotten used to over the past weeks, and then, very suddenly, something changed.

A spark, a singular spark of emotion was lit inside him. And a spark is all it takes to eventually light a fire.

He stared and stared at the perfect, ripe fruit and then he found himself standing on shaky legs for the first time for he didn’t know how long. He walked over to it, the first steps he had taken alone since he had arrived here and gazed at it up close. It was the most perfect, round apple he had ever seen.

It sparked memories of his childhood when he used to sneak them off the trees in his neighbour’s garden, his mother scolding him, telling him that you should _never ever_ steal, that it was the lowest of the low. And then later when his mother wasn’t there any more to scold him and he had stolen them each day from the market, the sweet juice the only happiness he found in that dark time. And then when the market seller caught him red-handed, but instead of sending him to the gaol, he handed him five in a bag. Then each day, no matter the mood or the weather, no matter how tough his life got, he knew he could always count on that vendor to give him an apple.

He had forgotten that. How had he forgotten that? He _had_ felt kindness before after all.

Emotions started to make their way back into his heart. Anger, nostalgia, hope, hopelessness, hatred, love and a terrible, terrible sadness.

Not long later, Alfyn came into the room and was shocked to find Therion sitting on his bed, tears streaming down his face and sobs wracking his body, a single red apple in his lap.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s ok, you’re going to be just fine,” he told him, wrapping his arms around the thief’s shoulders, hesitantly at first and then eventually into a full-armed hug. Therion sobbed into his shoulder harder than he had done in his entire life. Those tears held so much feeling, so much pain from a broken boy who might be finally, _finally_ mending.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a couple of days later when Therion properly ventured out of bed for the first time. His legs were shaky, and he moved slowly, his whole body stiff and aching from its still-healing injuries and lack of use. Alfyn had made a sling for his arm and had told him to keep it still even though it didn’t hurt much anymore, but his ribs were still tender and wrenched horribly when he moved. Alfyn said they couldn’t do much about the cracked skull, it would have to heal on its own, so he often had a throbbing headache nowadays, although that may well have been from lying in a stuffy room all day.

He shuffled over to the other side of the small bedroom to the mirror that hung on the wall. He took in his reflection for the first time in weeks and was shocked at the face staring back at him, so different from the one he once knew. His face was colourless, almost void of life; it was almost unrecognisable. His skin, while it had always been fair, was now sallow and pale and dead looking, and his cheekbones jutted out unattractively making him look unhealthy and angular. Deep, dark shadows hung under his eyes, a huge contrast to the rest of his face, and his hair lay lank and greasy on his shoulders, the result of being uncut for several weeks. But it was his eyes that shocked him the most. Those eyes didn’t belong to him nor any person who walked the Earth. They were dark, empty fissures lying dead in hollowed out sockets. There was no emotion within them, there was nothing.

He looked away, saddened by the fact that his exterior matched so exactly what he was feeling inside. When he looked down at his body, he could see the change there too. He had always been small, height wise and width wise, but he had also been muscular and fit. His muscles had wasted away now, and his bones stuck out awkwardly. He was wearing one of Alfyn’s shirts, his own clothes were damaged and lost, and although it was inevitably oversized, the way it hung off him awkwardly showed just how much weight he’d lost.

For someone who usually relied so much on their physical abilities, it was definitely going to take some getting used to. Not that he’d been using his physical abilities at all lately. He was no longer the nimble thief he prided himself for being.

He sighed. Although his concussion had all but gone and he could now at least stand without anyone’s help, he realised his recovery has only just begun. Mentally, he was feeling better. The cold, aching darkness that had clouded his mind for the last few weeks had started to lift and he no longer felt that overwhelming numbness anymore, but he knew the person he had once been was gone for good.

He turned and looked out the window of the little room for the first time properly. It looked out onto a small orchard full of apple trees and a small fishpond. It was overgrown, but not in a deserted way, it had purposefully been left for the wild to claim. The sky was bright and blue, early afternoon, and Alfyn was most likely out working.

The Riverlands had always been a place Therion had admired but thought of negatively. Perhaps it was jealousy that he had been left to grow up in a blustery, waste of a town when this beautiful land of rivers and bubbling brooks was so close by. Now he felt a strange urge to know it.

He washed himself in the basin in the corner of the room, removing weeks’ worth of grime from his skin. He imagined he had smelt pretty bad because the water was a yellowy-brown when he was done. He grabbed the razor by the sink and shaved the fluff of a beard which had grown on his face and thought about how Darius always laughed at him for not being able to grow a full- wait, no, no thinking about _him._

He chopped his hair into his signature scraggly haircut and washed that too and when it was done it stood up in fluffy untamed clumps like it had before. He found some clothes in a pile on the dresser by his bed along with his old purple scarf and shawl which he guessed Alfyn must have salvaged and washed. A flood of emotion and memories overwhelmed him at the sight of them; they had been his travel companions long before anyone else. 

He put them on over the top of the other clothes which were a little bit big, but he guessed they belonged to Zeph rather than Alfyn because they weren’t too bad, but definitely not his usual style. In fact, once upon a time he would have laughed cruelly at anyone wearing this.

When he looked in the mirror again, he looked a lot more like his old self. Still worn and unhealthy, and _those eyes_ still stared forebodingly back at him, but he was a lot more recognisable. Even making himself look vaguely presentable had taken a lot out of him though, and his body longed for rest. It was frustrating seeing as all he had done over the past weeks was sleep.

But he wasn’t going to give up now. It was a miracle he had even mustered up the energy to get out of bed in the first place. He wasn’t going to waste that opportunity.

He walked stiffly over to the door, opened it and stepped into the rest of Alfyn’s house. He vaguely remembered it from when he had first arrived here but then it had shown all the signs of not being lived in for a while. Now it was quite the opposite. It was just the one room, cosy and cluttered, a bed in one corner and all sorts of herbs and flowers hanging in the rafters to dry. They gave the room a fragrant, earthy smell; a nice relief from his musty room.

He walked through it and to the front door, then stepped outside into a world that ensnared his senses. Everything was overwhelming; the bright light from the sun, the chattering villagers and the clean, fresh smell of the countryside. An old, cheery-faced woman whom he didn’t recognise stopped when he appeared at the doorway.

“Therion!” she said, “I am ever so glad to see you up and about dear.”

Therion looked at her closely, trying to find some familiar features in her face. He didn’t and realised to his confusion that he did not know her. He stared as she walked away cheerily and almost felt like opening the door again and walking right back inside. Instead he frowned and made to step off the doorstep. Perhaps she was a close friend of Alfyn’s.

No sooner had he walked a couple of paces away from the house, a man sporting a pitchfork and another cheery smile that seemed the uniform around here, addressed him.

“Ah, I see you’re feeling better, Therion!” He cried and made to put a hand on his shoulder.

Therion flinched back violently.

“Oh, sorry son, I meant no harm,” the man said embarrassedly and quickly withdrew his hand. “You have a nice afternoon now.”

As he walked away Therion considered the fact that this was a small village and supposed he should have expected this kind of treatment. Alfyn had said something about everyone knowing everyone here. This was quite extensive though.

He also thought about the way he had flinched back from that man. True, he had never exactly been a touchy-feely person by nature, but the impulse to get away had been almost violent, and totally reflexive. Then again, he had only contact with Alfyn over the past month so perhaps it was just him being not used to human contact.

As he made his way down the street, not going anywhere particular but just appreciating the feeling of being out and about and the fresh air hitting his face, several more residents of Clearbrook waved to him and greeted him as if he was someone they had known forever. It was making Therion very nervous. He tried to make himself as small as possible to try and avoid being noticed. It didn’t work.

“Hi Therion! If you’re lookin’ for Alfyn, he’s down at Old Gary’s house over the river,” said a young, pretty girl, again speaking to him as if he was an old friend. He said nothing in reply, but she didn’t seem to mind, carrying on her way with her basket of flowers. He watched her go for a bit then decided that going to see Alfyn would at least get him away from the people of this nightmare town. He continued along the path and over the bridge and was just wondering which house was the right one when he spotted a sign outside one of the houses which read ‘Old Gary’s House’. Well that was simple. Weird, but simple.

The house was like all the others in Clearbrook: comfy and homely looking, grander than those on the street on which Therion grew up but far from as wealthy as those of the top rungs of Bolderfall society. They looked as if each one was crafted with utmost care to become a home rather than just a house.

He knocked on the sturdy wooden door and entered when he heard a familiar voice tell him to enter.

Alfyn was sitting by a bed in the corner of the room, in it lay a frail-looking old man with a ruddy face and thinning dark grey hair. Zeph was at the table in the middle of the room, a bag of herbs and remedies open beside him as he mixed up a concoction.

He looked up when the door opened, and a look of surprise adorned his face when he saw who it was.

“Therion! Er, how are you feelin’?” he asked joyfully albeit a little awkwardly. Fortunately, Therion was spared having to answer by the sound of Alfyn’s chair scraping across the floor as he stood up suddenly.

“Therion!” he said with so much enthusiasm it made Therion want to crawl into a ball, “You’re up! I was beginnin’ to think-“

He stopped as he gaged Therion’s reaction.

“Heh, sorry, I guess I’m just a little excited,” he said rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I sure am happy to see you though. We’re almost done here, why don’t you take a seat and wait for me to finish, and we can take a walk if you’re feelin’ up to it.”

Therion looked at Zeph again who gave him a lopsided grin to hide the fact he was obviously staring and turned away, back to his task.

Therion looked back to Alfyn and nodded. A walk actually sounded nice provided it was well away from any people. Alfyn directed him to a chair at the side of the room. He looked as if he wanted to help him in his slow painful movements, but thankfully he decided against it.

It was actually pretty fascinating watching the two of them work. Alfyn asked the old man a lot of questions about his health, all under the guise of easy conversation about his life and what he’s been up to lately so that Therion only realised halfway through that what he was doing was trying to find a diagnosis. Zeph cut in here and there with friendly chatter, all the while mixing up what looked to be a complex concoction of herbs and plants. He didn’t look at Therion once and he wondered if he made him nervous. That thought made him oddly satisfied. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Zeph in particular, in fact he barely knew the guy and he seemed nice enough. It was just that he seemed _so_ mild-mannered that he was, well, a bit boring. He was a small boy, granted not as small as Therion, but a lot smaller than Alfyn. He had a good looking but easily forgettable face and dark hair in a cut that seemed to be standard around here. He was like most of the people in Clearbrook: constantly smiling and had probably never seen a hard day in their lives. It made for a bland personality and not to mention the exact type of person that annoyed Therion the most.

When they were done and they had sussed his problem as severe joint pain and given him something to dull his discomfort, the old man apologised profusely that he had no money to give them but told them they were welcome around his house for dinner once he was feeling better, with Therion as well of course. Alfyn and Zeph assured him that it was absolutely fine not to have any spare change, that they were just happy to help and that they would love to visit him for dinner some time. Therion rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t say he was expecting any different. They didn’t accept Therion’s invitation for him which he was glad about. There was no way he was being dragged along to sit through idle dinner chatter with a man who looked like he wasn’t going to survive past the next couple of years anyway.

Then they all thanked each other one last time and made their way out of the house.

“I always like treatin’ Old Gary,” said Alfyn as they idled down the street.

“I wonder if he’ll make us that turnip soup again when we go for dinner,” mused Zeph, “we’ll have to think of a new way to get rid of it, he’s moved that plant pot.”

Alfyn frowned.

“Huh, maybe we can request somethin’ else, coz there’s no way I could actually eat a whole bowl of that stuff…”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing he knows how to make,” Zeph laughed, “anyway, this is me, I’ll catch you later! Bye Therion,” he said, smiling at the thief before opening the door to his house and disappearing inside.

Alfyn and Therion continued slowly down the street again, accounting for Therion’s hindered pace, past the rows of houses and little village shops. Several people said hello to them and some even stopped for a conversation which Alfyn returned gladly. It was like walking through an entire fucking village of Alfyns. They were all exactly the same. He thought about how easily he could steal from any one of these people, naïve as they all clearly were. But strangely he found himself not really wanting to.

Fucking Riverlands, messing with his head.

Finally, the path turned more unkempt and the houses became sparser, the area between them greener, and they walked past a graveyard looking over a valley of luscious green grass and pine trees. Alfyn looked slightly longingly at the graveyard as they walked past.

“Tell me if you get tired and we can stop,” said Alfyn as they took a footpath leading down the hill and away from the village (thank Aeber) with a view of meandering rivers and flowering fields.

Therion nodded. He was definitely struggling already. He hated how weak his body had become, hated how helpless it made him feel.

“It’ll take time to build your strength up again, all you need is a bit of patience and you’ll be right as rain,” Alfyn said cheerfully and Therion wondered vaguely if he could actually read minds.

Then he continued more seriously.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re up and about again, Therion, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you weren’t, you must’ve been through somethin’ awful. I don’t expect you to talk about it anytime soon, but just know I’m here if you want to.”

The look on his face was so earnest it made Therion feel the old irritation that always sparked up when someone showed incredible naivety, but there was also something else: a warm, comforting feeling like he was sitting by a cosy fire. It reminded him of a time long ago, the memory exactly eluded him.

“I know we haven’t known each other long or anythin’,” Alfyn continued, “but I feel like I’ve gotten close to you over these past weeks and I just wanted to let you know I would never betray you like Darius did. I don’t know how he could-“

He stopped when he realised Therion was no longer walking beside him and looked back in confusion.

“How do you know that?” Therion snapped harshly, his voice cracked and weak with weeks of disuse. Alfyn looked alarmed as Therion glared at him. Thoughts were rushing through his head about what this meant. He hadn’t said a word about what had happened to him, fuck, he hadn’t even said a word full stop. Was Alfyn somehow involved in this? Just waiting for the right moment to slaughter him in his sleep. He suddenly wished he had his old dagger with him. He had left all his weapons at the bottom of that damned cliff and now he was completely unarmed. He cursed himself. How could he have allowed himself to be betrayed _again?_ But before he could act, Alfyn’s face turned from alarm to sadness.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Therion,” he said calmly, all the anger from just a few moments ago drifting away like the soft breeze, “I should’ve said before, I just didn’t want to bring up what had happened.”

Therion was glaring at him, wondering whether to run. He probably wouldn’t get very far; Alfyn could beat him easily considering the state he was in. He decided the best option was to wait for him to continue. He looked unperturbed by Therion’s expression and recalled his story.

“I overheard a couple of blokes talkin’ in Saintsbridge. I was kinda feelin’ sad that you had left and I was also feelin’ really guilty about how I treated you at the tavern,” he stopped and looked at him, “I am really sorry about that by the way, it was out of line, I don’t blame you for walkin’ away.”

Therion just gave him a scowl.

“Anyway,” he continued nervously, “I was wanderin’ around Saintsbridge decidin’ if I should run and catch up with you to apologise, and I ended up wanderin’ down an alley to clear my head when suddenly I heard voices. I wasn’t gonna listen, I mean, I’m no eavesdropper, but I heard them say Darius’ name.”

Therion flinched a little bit when he heard Alfyn say his name out loud again.

“So I thought what harm could it do just to listen and see what was goin’ on? Well, they were talkin’ about some plan that had just been put into operation that would get them a whole hoard of leaves that had been stolen. I thought about confrontin’ them then to tell them stealin’ wasn’t nice and such,” Therion rolled his eyes obviously at that, “but I stopped when they said they were Cianno Group. I mean _the_ Cianno Group! Dohter, I’ve heard the stories about them, but I never figured I would actually run into them in Saintsbridge of all places.

“And then they continued to say the guy with the gold, Darius, was goin’ to the Cliftlands to off his business partner and after that, they would get the money. When I heard that I just about fell on my face from shock and made a right noise. I ran away coz I’ve heard the Cianno Group is real good at fightin’ but they managed to pull a great chunk of my hair out which I didn’t appreciate. But I knew I had to find you, and soon coz I knew you’d left that mornin’. I checked out of the Inn and walked faster than I have ever in my life and could only guess which way you’d gone. I figured the Murkwood trail seemed the most murdery so I went that way and thank Dohter I chose right! I walked all night and didn’t stop. I searched all along the cliff edge for hours and hours until I found you late the next day.”

Alfyn suddenly stopped and a strange emotion flickered across his feature.

“I really thought I was too late, Therion,” he said quietly, “I thought you were dead.”

They just stood in silence for a bit and Therion thought about what it must have taken for him to search all day and all night for a someone he barely knew. A practical stranger. His head called it naivety, but deep down he felt something else. This was a level of kindness he had deemed non-existent during his lifetime. Not once had anyone shown him that amount of love. Not the rich, not the poor, certainly not Darius. It was almost overwhelming. Was this what he had been missing his whole life?

Alfyn was watching him nervously and Therion kept his scowl just to intimidate him a little before he gave a small nod and walked past him, carrying on along the path. Alfyn followed and for the rest of the walk he babbled about how nice it was that Therion was up and about and what Zeph and he had done that day and he kept asking if Therion was ok or if he needed anything to which Therion never replied. Then they stopped under the shade of a large oak tree and Alfyn brought out some sandwiches from his bag and they sat and ate and Alfyn talked more and Therion half listened and half just appreciated this moment. Because while the cold knife of betrayal still pierced Therion’s heart (and perhaps it always would), he found in that moment it was easier to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: I don’t know if I’ll come back to this in the future, perhaps one day when I have more time on my hands :)


End file.
